A Kingdom Unlike Anyother
by GoldenGail3
Summary: This fic is a complete AU of the book series (NOT the show, mind you, lol). Robert Baratheon obtains Lys alongside his wife, Lyanna Stark. Robert's Rebellion never happens. Rhaegar's only son and heir, Prince Aegon, dies causing a power vacuum to appear across the Seven Kingdoms between his eldest daughter Visenya, his serious youngers brother Daeron, and popular Prince Maekor.
1. INDEX

In Essos, Robert Baratheon had sacked and taken the free city of Lys with his gang of sellswords known as the Brave Adventurers. With the help of neighbouring city states like Braavos and Pentoshi, they raped and pillaged the city. They killed it's archon, a Valyrian-looking man, and sacked the gold from within the city, as well as taking woman from the cities as whores for the men. Robert Baratheon had taken none from the city, for he swore faithfulness to his wife, Lyanna Stark. It was said at her whims, that Robert dropped everything, including his claim to Storm's End to become a mercenary Lord. Though this new development scared and frightened the Targaryen's, Rhaegar could do naught as the remains of the Valyrian Freehold crumbled under Robert's control.

Meanwhile, King Rhaegar of Westeros was fighting off contenders to the throne, his two brothers, Daeron and Maekor and their hoard of children. Maekor was extremely ambitious and was married to Lady Janna Tryell, while Daeron was cunning and married to Lady Cersei Lannister. One might expect that they'd fight one another, leaving Rhaegar and his own offspring alone while they did so, but they decided to ally against Rhaegar and Viserys, the seventh brother and Prince of Summehall. A loyalist Viserys was, through and through, even though he himself was married to Rohanna Dayne, and with her he had twins. Meanwhile, Aegon the Elder joined the King's Guard in a move most suspected was Rhaegar's way of limiting the factions and well, Jaehaerys, the fifth born son, had already forsaken his claim to the throne to go exploring Westeros with Lord Robert Baratheon and his wife.

From eldest to youngest, Rhaegar Targaryen was born on 259 AC and his sister-wife Alysanne, 261 AC. They were the eldest children of Aerys II and his own sister-wife Rhaella, and not until five years after Alysanne's birth would they get another child. This time, it was Daeron Targaryen 266 AC and a year after that, Maekor Targaryen, 267 AC. Three years after Daeron , Aegon the Elder and his twin sister, Daena, would be born in King's Landing, 270 AC. Jaehaerys Targayen, 273 AC, Viserys Targaryen 275C. Daenerys Targaryen, the youngest was born seven years later in King's Landing during one of the farce springs In 282 AC.

As for the rest of the houses, Lord Steffon Baratheon and his wife, Cassana Estermost had themselves a great deal of grandchildren. In both Stannis and in Robert's case, though Robert later abdicated his claim to Storm's End to become a Mercenary King in Essos, leaving Stannis as heir of Storm's End. Stannis married Daena Targaryen in 283, a short two years after Robert left, and between them they produced five children, Davos 284 AC, Orys 286 AC, Monfryd 287, Jocelyn 289, Raymont 290.

As for Stannis marrying Daena Targaryen, it was done to keep Stannis and his children completely on the King's side, not on any of the so-called pretenders side.

House Tully: After Lord Hoster died of cancer, Edmure Tully married Arianne Martell and so far, they have three children. Tristan ,(b 293), Sharra (b 294), Axell (b 295)

Lyanna Stark and Robert produced four children together, Jon 282, Maric 285, Baldric 286, Lyonel 286, They all live in a great, large mansion in Lys where the Magister once lived.. when he still lived that was, until they took it and make it there own. Robert actually has several properties throughout Essos, including in Braavos but choices to make his children live in the palace they rightfully took over. Lyanna is his rather permanent Regent as he takes his gangs off to war and conquest, leaving behind Lyanna to do all the busy work as he calls it. He'd rather be off battling demons than off fighting nobles for power.

As for House Stark, after Rickard died of a heart attack, Brandon Stark took over control of House Stark. He married Catelyn Stark and his brother, Eddard, joined Robert's expedition alongside Jaehaerys. Officially, Ned is Robert's hand and thus helps his sister run the Kingdom they have more smoothly. He and Cat have five children together, and his youngest brother, Benjen joined the Night's watch. Their children are as followed: Edric 281, Sansa 282, Cregan 284, Torrhen 285, Arya 287. Brandon also has one natural children with Barbary Rysell (a boy named Artos Snow b 281). Ned married Ashara Dayne and they have three children, Raya 283, Robb 283, Rickon 286. They also live in the big house in Lys amongst their cousins, as Ashara and Lyanna watch on.

House Arryn: Lord Paramount Jon Arryn choice not to marry, instead letting his young Heir to do so. Elbert choice to marry Lysa Tully and between them they produced about five children thus far. Robin 284, Alyssa 284, Ronald 286, Jeyne 287, Alester 288

House Martell: Prince Doran's wife is Mellario of Norvos. Doran's heir, Quentyn, is engaged to someone outside of Dorne. His younger brother, Tristane is going to marry a Yrnwood maid to make up for the damage done by Oberyn Martell to House Martell and House Yrnwood relations.

House Tryell: Lord Paramount Mace Tryell's wife is Alerie Hightower. His heir, Willas has married Lady Joanna Arryn and between them, they have produced three children. Robert 288, Daeryssa 289, Matthos 291. Janna Tryell, Mace's sister, produced six children with her husband Prince Maekor. Daemon 280, Aerion 281, Aerae 283, Shaena 284, Baelon 286, Jacaerys 287.. Willas Tryell married Leonette Fossoway and thus far they are childless. Loras Tryell is off squiring in the Riverlands for Ser Edmure Tully.

House Lannister: Lord Paramount Tywin Lannister's new wife is Helena Westerling, sister of Gawen Westerling, after his past wife, Johanna's death. Jaime Lannister is a King's Guard and refuses to leave the position, Lady Cersei is married to Prince Daeron Targareyn and between them, they have six children. Valerion, 283, Aelora, 284, Aemon 286, Rhaenyra 287, Matarys 288, Vaella 289. Tywin's new children with his new wife, Helena are about five thus far. Cerion 282, Damon 283, Joanna 285, Fiona 286, Jason 287. Tyrion was exiled many years ago from Westeros and the Rock, for reasons only Tywin could say, but presumably it had to do with making sure Cerion was the only and rightful heir of the Westerlands.

House Greyjoy: Lord Paramount Balon Greyjoy's wife is Alannys Harlaw. Their two sons, Rodrick and Maron perished in a fruitless raid upon a readied Lannisport. Tywin Lannister came to the Iron Isles in the aftermath of the battle with his own fleet and took great revenge upon the weakened Iron Fleet. He even got so far as taking back what was his and a hostage, Theon Greyjoy, out of it. As for Asha Greyjoy, she became the captain of the ship Black Wind in her teens and even married the young, strapping heir of Lordsport, Aleksander Boltley. Aleksander was Captain of the ship Sea Serpent and a member of the Iron Fleet. He and Asha had three children. Bard 290, Moira 291, Deidre 293, meanwhile Theon Greyjoy had married Eileen Lannister, daughter of Kevan Lannister. Between them, they so far have had three children, Quellon 291, Aragon 292, Robert 293. His father did not like the fact he married a foreigner though and has since alienated his son's children, thinking them just as weak-minded as their father... though Theon is a good, decent sea-commander having fought the pirates of the Stepstones many times, and can come across as rather experienced in that field. He's even been to the Summer Isles to do some raiding there too.

Alysanne and Rhaegar's children (main branch of the Targaryen family), Visenya 274, Aegon 276, Rhaenys 278. All were born on Dragonstone and had very limited contact with their cousins beyond Rhaegar becoming King. Aerys died naturally in his sleep at the age of 60 and Dowager-Queen Rhaella hangs out in Summerhall with her daughter, Daenerys and Viserys. Viserys is very close with Daenerys and is fiercely over-protective of his younger sister. Viserys is master of Laws to Rhaegar and his twin children, Aeran and Daerona were born recently in Summerhall in the long summer of 290.

Maekor is called the Roses Prince due to his marriage to Janna and is considered to be quite popular in the Reach by all means. Meanwhile, Daeron is called the Golden Prince due to his marriage to Cersei Lannister. Cersei Lannister does not have a very good reputation in court for she riles up the court and causes trouble for poor Queen Alysanne. Alysanne is considered by most to be a modest, diligent Queen that doesn't need Cersei's troublesome nature anywhere her. But as a good sisters, they must deal with one another regardless of how the other one feels about it.

 _some extra side notes_

 _also, alot of the things stated in here peeps can just consider rumors or over-exaggerations, or what-not._

 _Cerion Lannister is named after a King of the Rock_

 _Joanna Lannister (daughter of Tywin) is named after his first wife (obviously)_

 _Daemon Lannister is named after a Lordly Lord of Casterly Rock._

 _Fiona Lannister just sounded nice_

 _Jason Lannister is named after a Lord of Casterly Rock (a_

 _Robin Arryn is named after a King of the Mount and Vale_

 _Alyssa Arryn is named after a legendary Princess of the Vale_

 _Ronald Arryn is also named after a King of the Mount and Vale_

 _Jeyne Arryn is named after Lady Jeyne Arryn 'the maid' of the Vale_

 _Alester Arryn is similarily named after a King of the Mount and Vale_

 _Edric Stark sounds nice_

 _Sansa Stark is actually named after another Stark . /Sansa_Stark_(daughter_of_Rickon)_

 _Torrhen is named after after the last King of the North_

 _Cregan is named after a Lord of Winterfell_

 _and arya because canon and shite_

 _Artos Snow is named after either: Artos Stark the Implacable OR Artos the Strong. Take your pick. Me guess he's named after Artos Stark though._

 _Robert Tryell is named after the High Stewart that married into House Garender_

 _Daeryssa Tryell is named after a Princess that Selwyn of the Mirror Shields saved from Orges_

 _Matthos Tryell is named after a Lordly Tryell_

 _Quellon Greyjoy is named after the wisest Greyjoy Lord_

 _Aragon Greyjoy is named because whom doesn't want to be named after Aragon the Strider? :D_

 _Robert Greyjoy is named this cause it sounds nice_

 _Davos Baratheon is named after the Legendary Hero Ser Davos the Dragonslayer (this stannis don't know whom Davos Seaworth is so yee)_

 _Orys Baratheon is named after the founder of House Baratheon_

 _Monfryd Baratheon is named after King Monfryd V Durrandon_

 _Jocelyn Barathoen is named after the last Baratheon maiden that married into House Targaryen_

 _Raymont Baratheon is named after a Ser of the King's Guard that saved Aenys I's life_

 _As for the Targies, nah im not going there_


	2. On the Island of Lys

Lyanna stood on her and Robert's balcony overlooking the summery city, dressed in the corset of yellow and black to keep her stomach from being too noticeable in public. Her seven pregnancies had done a number on her body - for one, she gained a lot of weight from them. Not that she minded, but before all the pregnancies she was a tiny petite thing - now she felt as fat as a pumpkin - not that Robert minded. He was always telling her how beautiful and lovely she was, regardless of her own opinion on it - and regardless of the fact she was always getting a bigger dress to put on. She sighed at the thought, before turning her attention towards Lys itself - herself was disregarded in this instance - until her eldest son, Lord-Heir Jon Baratheon, a large, lanky boy with the all trademarks appearances of a Baratheon - from the shinny raven-coloured hair on his head to the deep blues of his eyes, came and stood next to her.

"Mum, I came here to report that uh... Prince Aegon... died a week ago of a infected wound in his sleep. Now our destiny falls to the Reds and the Whites - the Lions and the Flowers. Daeron's visited here a few times, with his heir and wife - as has Maekor. Which one should we support in this battle for the insufferable Iron Throne mum?" He asked. She snorted, turning towards him.

"Neither, we barely have enough men to garrison here as it is." She responded harshly to the idea of them even bothering to support the Iron Throne's pissing matches at this exact moment - as she put her hands on the seek white coloured deck, her hands became white as she grasped them like she meant business. She knew the defences of Lys - the people here were starving, the economy was shite due to them banning slaves of all sorts, they were nearly at war with all of the Free Cities due to this, and they had not enough men to defend Lys in the case that they were attacked by one of them. There were too many people here to take care off, not to say in the least, even though they brought Northerners and Southern alike here.

"Wow, mum you truly mean business. Also, uncle says there's been another attack from the old disposed Lion class here - they've been trying to send faceless men after us all this time, because we took away their business. It's no wonder were not all dead - but Umber lost a boy though in the insuring fight with the assassin in question...Oberyn has even gone as far to ask Rhaegar to allow father to allow them to make a Lord's Guard for us, so that we wouldn't die on the streets like cattle in this new town of ours." He was reporting the news that presumably their spymaster, Prince Oberyn Martell, was sending her way like the delightful Dornish man he was. He was also terribly effective in keeping the city from crumbling into ruin. She owed him for that at least - he had suggested that they also make a example of all those whom oppose them, violently as to make a example of them.

As for the rest of the realm, she was forseeing the building of many trading sectors to the Iron Bank - of which had begun to trade with them in the aftermath of them banning slavery, of which was a relief from everything else thus far. Not to mention, many northern and Marcher houses were considering moving their seconds sons out here - but unfortunately, the rich Lannisters cared so very little about them - not unless they supported Daeron's claim, would they be of any use to them - and the same could unfathomably be said about the Tryell's, of whom looked away from them. She needed them to end their petty squabbles in order for any of the things they were doing here to be of any use to the colony here, in essence.

She sighed at the news of BigJon Umber losing a son for her family - the Umbers have always been unquestionably loyal to the Starks of the North since the very beginning and Lyanna supposed she owed them something in compensation in keeping them safe. "Who was attacked in our family unit by the faceless men of all people?"

He stared at her and nodded slowly. "Me. I... don't know very much about what happened but... but one second I was duelling Robb in the courtyard, and the next Umber had me pinned to the ground, with a shield covering me as if he knew what was going on. The next he was on the ground, convolving with foam coming out of his mouth and something was pinned on his neck..." He stared at her shyly, "And the next, the guards were escorting back me and Robb back here just as quick. Robb was brought to uncle Ned and they said I was to spend alone time with you because father isn't here..."

She wished to tell him to that standing out in the open while an assassin after him was not a well-thought out consensuses but thought otherwise. The boy was as daft as his father when it came to danger - he'd stand out here forever to prove he wasn't scared of them - as if he was out on some permanent dare from someone. "Okay.." She was actually feeling threatened herself, for those bloody faceless men could be anyone - anyone, and they could strike at any time. It made her feel wheezy, just thinking about the possibility of any of her dear children being harmed by them.

The two of them stepped inside the mansion in the aftermath of this discussion, with Lyanna leaving her son with Ned while she went to talk to Oberyn immediately. Her son bashfully protested against her shoving of him with Ned in the 'safe' room of the House, claiming that she need not worry about him. But she pushed him into it with a shove and told him not to say another word about it.

She wanted the details on this assassination attempt done on her son - and thus, put an end to this little excursion, although she'd also have to deal with the Imp too in the process. Tyrion Lannister 'The Exile' was the current Master of Coin here, so he and Oberyn had interaction with one another - although she did regret that the Imp's presence did nothing to garnish support for the Lannister's. In fact, Tywin Lannister was completely disinclined to do anything for his dwarven son - and basically declared him a bastard even though by birthright and age he should be Tywin's heir to Casterly Rock and the Westerlands, not young Cerion, his third son.

His appearance here resulted in a rather large friction between them and the main body of Lannister's, that did not help their cause in the slightest. I think Lord Tywin takes it as a slight on his family that we allowed his exiled Dwarven son into the mix because it threatens his boy's inheritance.. She thought nervously. But she guessed the Imp knew of this fact, but decided to be here anyhow. He was rather keen on the helping part though, but it was quite troublesome, him being here of all places. He quite literally threatened their relations to the Lannisters, but they were of need of any and all help here in Lys. Even him, even if it did come at a cost. A rather large one, because Tywin Lannister refuses to fund us as long as he's here , threatening Cerion's inheritance and we do need the gold more-than ever. She supposed briefly that they could get gold from the Tryells, as they were most accommodating and thus being on the Tryell's side would benefit them the most, but than again, they couldn't afford to be in a feud with the man that literally made the 'Reigns of Castmere' a thing as far as she was concerned.

She walked through the tunnel-styled hallway - of which led to several children's room, to go to the large, and overbearing self-appointed council room - of which consisted of a general metal table but five wooden chairs, all with the Targaryen three-headed Dragon tattooed onto them as a reminder of their overlords from the Iron Throne. King Rhaegar had decided they needed a council in order to run the rather populous port of Lys, and thus allowed them to bring whomever they saw fit to be that. He said they were kind of like the Dornish right now as far it went, but he refused to allow Robert to use the title Storm King though, but there was more clemency in paying the tax the Iron Throne imposed. He even once brought his own small council here - of which consisted of Lord Steffon Baratheon, as the Hand, Viserys Targaryen as the Master of Laws, Jon Arryn as the Master of Ships, Richard Penrose as the Master of Whisper, Grand Maester John Tryell, and Michael Royce as Master of Coin.

He even brought along Oberyn with them after he decided they had need of someone of his talents, he said. He said he'd also give them leave to make a 'Small Council' equest thing if they wished too.

So they did. She entered the large golden-coloured door, with it's tiny lions on it to symbolize the Class it had once belonged too, before barging Into the room. Her presence was noted immediately by Oberyn and his Paramount, the good Lady Eliara Sand, and Tyrion Lannister and his Valyrian looking half-naked whore whom gently sat on the imp's knees like she belonged there while the imp looked at her gregarious waistline. The temptation to snort in disgust at the scene was quite overwhelming to Lyanna's tastes.

"Oberyn, my son got attacked by a faceless man set by one of those gods forsaken overrated Lions. Not the Lannister sort mind you Imp, but I do fear the rest of the former classes - like the Elephant, may join them in getting enough gold to attack us with Braavosi's faceless men, despite the fact they use to be former slavers..." She felt extremely irritated with Braavos, the one city that forsaken slavery in all efficiencies, for allowing their faceless man to attack them. They even forbade slavery when they attacked other regions of Essos, why are they fucking working for the scum now?Lyanna felt tempted to go to Braavos to ask them why they were working alongside them; even though they had just started trading with them. "And not to mention, they might be selling our people illegally into slavery without our consent or knowledge. I need the names of the most likely candidates amongst the Traders that would likely do this attack again."

"Whomever it is, I'll find and find himself a nice pillar to rest on for the rest of his short life." Oberyn wasn't joking about doing this very action. " But don't worry my Lady Lyanna, my spies are looking into them right now. I must say, they all rest on a lot of blood money and thus they're more impeccable for blackmail."

"Thank you. As for you Imp, you presumably heard the news of Prince Aegon's sudden and tragic death?" She asked the man. Oberyn at least was a tad bit more studle in his whoring ways, and for that she was thankful, but Tyrion seemly had no such barriers. I want to ask him to please be more tactful about it for the sakes of my sons.

"I have indeed - and I understand if you have the need to ounce me like my father did." He soundly mildly indifferent about this fact. "Because I'd rather not see your colony to go to the shite house because of my father's wrath against me."

She nodded, as she pressed her lips though. "I'm concerned though..."

"No, I'm not after Cerion's birthright - I met him, you know, and he was a terribly innocent lad." He put the whore to the side with a push of hand. "And I don't wish to harm him, despite the bloody exile. You can feel free to tell my father this, if he ever decides to grace us with a visit, that is."

She raised her eyes at that. "But your the firstborn son though before him and firstborn sons born from true marriages always come before the younger brother in the line of succession. Since Jaime is in the King's Guard, that technically makes you the first in line before Cerion Lannister."

"Dwarfs are bastards to their fathers, m' Lady."

She stiffed at the comment and decided to ignore it for now, turning her back again to Oberyn. "Thank you for your help, m' Lord." She bowed politely.

They had to decide which side to declare for - and King Rhaegar's seemed the best option for now at least. He had the most providence to provide for them, right now, although that would mean making Princess Visenya, the Jewel of King's Landing, Queen-Regnant of the Iron Throne someday. Lyanna knew of Princess Visenya - she was shrewd for one of her age; but Aegon was taught how to rule, whilst she was naught. She was no doubt taught to be a housewife, until Rhaegar decided to make her his heir. Because of pettiness. Rhaegar's never been said to have the greatest relationship with his brothers... Lyanna thought, as she left the room and went down the hallway, leaving the men to their business.

She walked out of the hall in deep thought -as Robert wasn't here to do something similar. He had long since forsaken ruling in favour for running his army for Braavos - which left it all to her to deal with it all - from ruling to dealing with their numerous children. Jon at least inherited something of responsibility and thus was more palpable to being taught in the ways of Leadership. Her husband was by no means, a terrible man - he was a good, decent man with a good head on his shoulders. He also loved children - and he loved them so much, that he constantly dotted on all of their children whenever he saw them, and even once brought along with him a blue-haired former slave from Pentoshi once as a Squire during one of his Braavosi anti-slavery annexations on the provision. He's a good man, Robert Baratheon, despite him having a bit of a drinking problem. He had lots of nightmares though and often had to sleep without her when he was here, less he'd scare her with his visions.

She hoped Robert was alright though alongside his company as they went on many adventures together, as she stared at the painting of a young, strong Robert holding Jon in his arms with a cheerful smile on his lips and the baby was laughing as he sat squabbled in a raven and gold blanket, overlooking the tumultuous bay of Shipbreakers Bay. She found Robert to be delightfully handsome as a young man, with a head of raven-coloured hair and a musty bread as he brushed it against his babe son. It was a lovely painting, done by Daena Targaryen when she was being fostered at Storm's End by Steffon, as a courtesy to his cousins of course. The girl was charming and sweet, and Stannis, that dour brother of Robert's, seemed to like Daena despite him being completely and utterly tongue-tied around herself though, to her great amusement.

"Fury is ours, Robert." She smiled at the painting, as she walked off from it to deal with her children in the next room.


	3. Iron Throne Alacrities

**Arianne**

It was a vibrant day in the halls of the Red Keep, as King Rhaegar declared that his eldest daughter would be heir to the Seven Kingdoms in front of the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms. The girl may have been pretty in appearance, but Arianne had her doubts that she was could rule the Kingdoms though - the girl from what she observed from her perch, seemed to be a nervous, shy little thing. Even though she may have been beautiful in appearance, donning a beautiful raven-coloured ball gown-fitted dress with a noticeably small breasts. A pretty face did not make Nymeria ruler; force of personality did, and thus far, all the Princess seemed to be doing was tripping over her own words with her own fiance from the Reach. He had a pretty face too, but there was an actual force there on his face to be reckoned with, unlike the Princess of whom maintained an air of dizty sensitivity and nervousness. If she was going to rule, it would be likely that whomever that Reachman was, would be the true power to the throne instead of the Princess, which somewhat concerned Arianne - a woman should rule in her own right or none at all, in her own opinion.

She observed as she sat with her mistress, the Queen at the high table meant for Ladies of the Queen.. She studied the crowd of men, from her perch, as she held onto Tristan, as he giggled and tried destroying the food laid out on the table with his pale but tiny tots hands - though, like the mother she was, she watched him as well, to prevent the food from spilling on her blue and cream colored gown she wore today, with the fish of House Tully imprinted on the side of it. It was what Ladies did, her father stated, as he told her that she'd marry Lord Edmure, the ginger haired handsome Lord from the Riverlands.

Truthfully, she was thrilled by the arrangement, enough so that she managed to keep her maidenhood intact until the day she married him in Riverrun's small Sept; he was starling handsome to her, even more than any of the men in Dorne, including that pretentious Gerold Dayne fellow. She once thought he, the jealous imbecile, was as handsome as a Dragon Prince for some bizarre reasons. Now, that she thought about it more-so clearly, it was a good idea she never attempted a romantic enterprise with him, or else he'd be jealous of her husband, of whom was a much higher rank than just some lowly landed Knight like himself. Even though her husband was also a Ser Knight as well, adding on to his loving charm she felt he possessed.

"Roanna, how goes your marriage to Prince Viserys?" Roanna Dayne was sitting next to her, and she was quite the lovely, enchanting woman, with her locks of soft light blonde hair and those famous Dayne periwinkle purple coloured eyes, she quite looked like her nephew, Edric in appearance. She also had thin, short lips and a simple heart-shaped face, the kind of features that would make her look like a alluringly beautiful woman if she just took off that cream-colored cap off her head though. She was stunning already though, at least to Arianne.

She laughed, and it sounded like bells ringing. "Prince Viserys is a good man and Edric loves him. I think my lovely nephew wants to squire under my husband, an idea I very much endorse, indeed." She chuckled. "Viserys is good to his common-folk and treats them well, and he's good with our children... Little Aerian and Daenora, and even the little Princess Daenerys too... But I could very much speak about the goods of my husbands all day and nought stop with it, Arianne. How are you and Edmure? Well enough I suppose? Edmure is a good man too, I hear." She was smiling a great deal, the Lady of Summerhall and Arianne had always found Roanna to be a chatty, pious sort of woman, indeed, she even wore her soft cream blonde hair back in a bun underneath a plushy white-coloured cap, much like how Queen Naerys wore her hair back in her day.

"Indeed, Edmure is." She noted. "A good, decent man, although a bit moody at times. I guess that's what comes out of having constantly mediate the Brackens and the Blackwoods though." Those two houses were constantly at each other throats, enough that no marriages would ever fix their tepid relationship - sometimes, it vaguely reminded of her of the relationship between her own family and the Yrnwoods. Something always happened to set it off - the last incident was her uncle Oberyn sleeping with Lord Yrnwood's mistress, and the last before that was the Blackfyre rebellion, in which House Yronwood sided with those treacherous pretenders. Honestly, Arianne thought her uncle was the epiphany of We do not think when he did that folly towards House Yronwood. That House was very powerful within Dorne, and thus messing with it like what Oberyn did was not such a good idea, in Arianne's mind, it would be like the equivalent of House Tyrell fucking around with House Hightower or such. It was not an entirely good plan to be messing with your second-most powerful House within one's region.

Roanna smiled warmly before continuing to sip gently from her cucumber soup. She was eating on a gentle diet of only vegetables and water, and nothing else, Roanna was certainly more pious than she herself was. She was eating freshly made bread with some butter on it, whilst her son drank a meter of milk, which messed up his blue and red outfit she had made for him. The boy had his father's coloring, the blue eyes, the ginger hair, and the pale milky skin, but he did get her wavy hair, if nothing else. Her only daughter thus far, Sharra, ended up with her father's dark auburn hair and her own coffee-brown colored tinted eyes, though none of the current Tully siblings possessed her creamy tanned skin... yet, anyhow.

"You know, I'm glad you two Dornish ladies are happy with your spouses." The Queen spoke up, quietly though. Queen Alysanne was similar in personality to her eldest daughter, a shy bookish woman in nature; something that could make Alysanne seem a little boring at times. She also was quite pious, and all-around a kindly, charitable woman. "My mother once told me that arranged marriages could lead to wonders, but she never loved my father though, unfortunately. My brother-husband attempted to keep me away from the drama that happened between the two of them and the rest of the court. I suppose I rather am sheltered in that respect, unfortunately." She sighed. "Now, I'm forced to watch as my own daughter, Visenya, gets torn into pieces by my brothers, as I sit up here on this bloody podium my own mother use to sit on, unable to do anything about it."

She was right on that, Daeron and Maekor was indeed, doing that to Visenya. "Oh." Roanna gasped, seeing it for herself. Her periwinkle purple eyes looked shocked seeing the Princess look so demoralized under the foot of the King. She looked like the men did a number on her. If Arianne was her, she'd smack them for this insolence done to their Crown Princess, but neither men seemed terribly affected by the Princess's attempts to get control of the general assembly and of themselves, obviously. Daeron and Maekor basically ignored her, in preference for listening to the Rhaegar's Hand.

Although, her own husband was no doubt, on Maekor's side due to familial connections with the Prince. The Lord Heir of the Reach had married an Arryn afterall, and his sister, Lysa was married to Joanna Arryn's brother Elbert, thus making him leaning towards that position. Honestly, the Reach, the Eyrie, the Riverlands, and the North, were all on the same boat when it came to decision making due to connections of blood, and so far the four strong allies were all leaning towards Maekor due to this. She was also sure Dorne, her own homeland, was also joining the alliance of four due to herself being the wife of Edmure Tully, the current lord of Riverrun. Thus making it the Five rather than the four in terms of decisions, whilst leaving the Westerlands alone, but even the Westerlands were getting allies of their own through marriages with Tywin's young half Westerling daughters.

The Lannisters had been kindly enough to get their young daughter, Joanna, promised to her brother Quentyn, and their second youngest, Fiona, off to Lord Davos Baratheon. It would seem that everyone was bounding themselves through blood for allies sakes, although the Targaryens had yet to promise any of their young yet. Though, no doubt they'd do so, soon, she supposed.

"Oh she'll learn, she's of Nymeria's blood, and no man under the blue sky will take away what is her's." Arianne reflected, staring at Maekor and Daeron. The two had their own separate tables - on Maekor's side sat blonde haired Elbert Arryn, his brood of strawberry blonde offspring, and his wife Lady Lysa Arryn (nee Tully), her own husband of whom was having conversation with Elbert, Willas Tyrell was there too, dressed in the green of House Tyrell - he wore one Rose on his jacket, to symbolize his status as eldest above his siblings, presumably; and all of them were conversing on their extremely large table set up for them. The table was noisy, as everyone was busily chatting away about things, although her husband seemed to have developed a quick friendship with the Heir of the Eyre, and his sister, her good-sister, was chatting away with Lysa about books and what not. Their children were playing and laughing around the large table, or loitering, like little Lady Daeryssa was doing, with a book in one hand, as she ponderously ignored the conversations swirling around the girl's blonde head. Her father was gently patting her soft, wavy dirty blonde curls, with a gentle brush of his hand, whilst he spoke to Prince Maekor, the man that sat at the head of the table in a masculine raven-coloured outfit.

On Daeron's side of the table, the Prince was brooding away as he slowly ate his chicken dish, and hardly looked up at anyone, including his wife of whom sat next to him, with the most annoyed expression on those emerald green eyes of her's. Honestly, Daeron was such a bore to look at in comparison to the gayness of his younger brother - he wore plain, but well-made raven-coloured clothing, and he hardly smiled with those deep purple eyes of his - that she far preferred observing the Tyrell's than him due them being at least more interesting and vibrant to the likes of him, even though she knew that truly that he was more dangerous than his younger brother was despite his surplus of friends. He was a thinker, a planner, which his younger brother seemed not to be, at least at first glance to her trained eyes, it did not appear that way, honestly Prince Maekor seemed to be the kind that lived in the moment, rather than think rationally about his actions in the long haul. But I could be wrong about that. First impressions about a person can be completely inaccurate, and he might be planning about his plans right now. She thought, thinking about Mace Tyrell as a principal of a man that pretended dullness to be actually be a great deal smarter than they actually appeared to be at a first glance.

"Oh I doubt that. That Alliance of Maekor's will rip and chew her in half before she can blink an eye at the crown; they're much too powerful for even my dear girl to handle, and not even the elder Prince Daeron with the rather lonely Lannister's, will win the alliance over." The Queen sounded rather cynical. "If they want Maekor on the throne, than damn, they'll get him on the throne. That's the might of the Riverlands, the North, and the Eyre, and the Reach there. I doubt you'll get much more powerful players than them right now - and I feel as though my younger brother, Maekor, has it all. Tis's rather unfortunate my son, whilst he still lived, couldn't do anything to get more people on our side, as the Lannister's take the might of the Stormlands under its wing with an alliance of blood through the promised marriage of Davos Baratheon and Fiona Lannister, and they've taken steps to keep Dorne from deciding on a firm alliance. I feel as though the only ones without an alliance would be ourselves, unfortunately, and not even Daena, my little sister can be of some assistance."

"Yes, but under Andal Law, not Dornish Law I might add." They weren't in Dorne, Dornish laws did not matter out here, as she learned from her father. She wasn't ignorant of the ways of the other Kingdoms. "Daughters and older brothers come before uncles in the line of succession. I know that much, and Maekor could not be such a fool as to see the folly of trying to usurp succession laws put in the place by the Andals of old." She responded, angrily.

"Your own husband is sitting with Prince Maekor though, Lady Martell." Bethany Rosby, a short girl with ember colored hair, softly pointed out, whilst Roanna Dayne ignored all the chatter coming from them as she talked to her children with a pleased expression on her gentle, soft face.

"I have a mind of my own, I'm not controlled by the actions of Edmure." She huffed. It was ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous, but she could do nothing about her husband's transactions though. "And my thoughts are that if Maekor does indeed transcend to the throne in the place of both of your living daughters, Daeron and all of his sons and daughters, than he's just broken every single law of succession, thus making him a traitor."

"Indeed." The Queen responded. "Indeed, but men commit follies for power all the time. My own father died just having lost the newly conquered Stepstones to the fleet of one of the Free cities. He didn't even have enough time to declare it a part of the seven kingdoms when It was taken. I think it was a folly taking the Stepstones again, like what Daemon did in the past."

"Ah. We'll see who wins the game, now shall we, Arianne?" Bethany smiled, making Arianne want to scream in anger at the rather outlandish situation unfolding. Not because she hated the girl, she just hated the game of thrones. It was a wicked game, paid in nothing but blood, pain and treachery for everyone involved, and there was nothing to be done about it.

 **Daeron**

Cersei was staring at the other table, with a look of remarkable look of irritation on her lovely feature as looked across to see the bloody crowd at Prince Maekor's Frey sized table of people allied with him through blood. "Daeron, I doubt I'll ever become Queen with four of the bloody Seven Kingdoms pressed up against Maekor's backside."

"I know, woman, you don't think I don't notice?" Daeron felt the heat, indeed - his younger brother, the one that was Father's favourite, was winning again and was flaunting it to his face. He practically felt himself sweating from it too, because he had so much power at his fingertips, and not to mention, he acting so utterly blithesome over the entire matter, as if he didn't give a flying fuck about all that beautiful power at his fingertips. If that were him in Maekor's place, he'd probably be acting much the same way, unafraid of any obstacle in his path. "Maekor is just doing that to let me know that I may be the eldest, but he's won with those bloody ally's he's got there." His eyes widened at the prospect, of knowing that once he became King, that almost all of the kingdoms would rise up and dispose him; it was a truly terrifying thought; imaging his younger, but stronger, brother taking the crown of Aegon V off of both he and his brother's corpse as he took up the expensive, jewelled crown of their father and Daeron the Good's.

"You forgot, that if he does that, he'd have committed treason." Tywin stated, matter of factly.

"Treason he'll get away with, no doubt, because some of our younger girls are promised to the faith." Two of them would become Septa's, mostly to avoid any past problems, whilst some of his sons would become Maesters or join the Night's Watch someday, or even join those on Lys. Either way, they'd become not a problem very quickly indeed. "And I don't want to promise off Aelora, because trouble may soon follow if any of the other High Lords get a single ounce of Targaryen blood on their family tree." The Baratheons weren't yet a problem, but he couldn't help but be worried about it because than they could claim descendsy from House Targaryen - of whom could rebel and theoretically could win the Iron Throne as legit claimants to it due to blood relations to them. Thus, he was very hesitant to give a single ounce of royal blood to could be traitors, with proven and true claimants overhead as they rebelled for the throne that wasn't rightfully there's.

"What about House Martell? They have Dragon blood in them, and yet they've yet to present a problem." Cersei replied with a smile.

"House Martell is weak, my dear, and House Baratheon is sated by House Targaryen giving up a daughter for marriage. Though, I personally think House Baratheon could be an actual threat to Rhaegar and the others if they actually tried their hands at treachery." Tywin stated.

"And I don't want to get them any leverage on my house, especially House Tryell, marrying a daughter to them could be me signing my House to their deaths honestly." Daeron responded.

Tywin nodded. "That would be a frightening thought, now wouldn't it?"

"Yes." Daeron nodded.

"Well, I personally think they'd all be happy if Prince Maekor was King, with Janna Tyrell as Queen." Cersei huffed, staring at Janna. Janna had her creamy brown-coloured locks in a simple bun, as she sat talking to her one of her children, of whom sat on her lap, as she smiled. Honestly, Janna looked more akin to a good mother than a dangerous political opponent, but she was indeed that, very much. She was eating some grass no doubt sent from the Reach, as it was the most fertile region beyond the Eyre, but regardless, she looked as bloody pious as that good-for nothing Roanna Dayne, of whom sat on that high podium for ladies of the Queen with a smile on her simple, round face. Honestly, Daeron hated Roanna, for how bloody perfect and gentle she seemed, even though she was of House Dayne. A powerful House in Dorne, amongst the likes of House Yronwood. "Because she's basically given Maekor all the power over us. That rose has everyone under it's thumb, from the lowly flying Arryn, to the school of fishes of the Tullies, to the pack of wolves of the Starks. But none are most fearsome of them are more fearsome than the Lion is." She smirked. "Besides for the dragons, but that's self explanatory on it's own though."

"I think Maekor was just fookin' lucky to be hitched with a Tryell." Daeron responded darkly. "Especially because they apparently bloody control themselves, the Arryns of whom help to provide most of the food the Kingdom, and the fookin' accessible Riverlands, the heart of the Kingdom, the North of whom field soldiers like the Stormlands and fookin Dorne, the closest towards Lys. To me, it would seem that the Tryells are just real lucky bastards, getting all of those allies before you Lannisters sent out your basically unlimited supply of Lannister woman. I swear, your so family is so impossibly fertile that your like if the rich fertile plains of the Reach somehow became people."

"Ha!" Cersei laughed. "A truer statement had never been more true in my lifetime. But regardless, dear, we're going to get the stags on our side, and they martial the finest troops in the entire Seven Kingdoms, even better than the North."

"And House Martell, if everything goes according to plan." Honestly, he was happy Tywin was sacrificing his two young daughters for this goal - even though he wasn't sacrificing a single one for a marriage goal. His daughters were simply too valuable to allow such a thing to happen, and he recognized the risk of as well; the risk of a needless rebellion based on a powerful candidate claiming blood ties from them via a daughter. It honestly worried Daeron, and wondered if Maekor was enough of an dullard to consider such a risky action. Hopefully not, but one could hope he wouldn't endanger everyone over such a foolhardy plan for one of his precious daughters - like Aerea for example. She was very valuable, given that Rhaegar listened to her amongst all of his other nieces and nephews, given the nature of her dreams - apparently according to Rhaegar the girl could foresee the future with 'dragon dreams' like Daeron the Drunkard and Daenys the Dreamer before her could. If anyone outside the family got connected to such powers via marriage, it could very well end in disaster for everyone in the Kingdom if her husband and his family misused her powers though.

"Oh and the Baratheons - they frolic with the dragons, outside of any of the connections of the four allies." She was sporting a cunning smile on her face. "A lion's natural prey is the stag, but I rather would like to think if that were true, than the Direwolves of House Stark would be pack hunting them as well." But of course, nobody cared to admit that little fact. Or that the Lions of House Lannister could destroy most of the other house's in reality, disincluding the Targaryens from the mix of course. "But I personally think that House Baratheon would be open to an alliance with us honestly, as they need more gold to keep their family members safe and secure on the new territory of Lys afloat anyhow, and your House has much of that much needed gold they so desire anyhow."

"Indeed, we do." Tywin responded. "But... you know whom's on Lys." He referred to Tyrion, that dwarven son of Tywin's. Him being alive and well played mayhem on Cerion's claim, and they had been sure the man had been dead for numerous years since he mysteriously left Casterly Rock.

"Oh so what, he's no threat to Cerion. He's a dwarf, nobody will take him seriously if he attempts such a folly." Daeron responded immediately. "Yes, he might be the elder than Cerion... But didn't you disinherit him though? You should at least give the Lysesians a chance to grow into a proper Lord Paramouncy as they are a new, growing settlement after all, and they might become quite valuable to you in the future if you assist them. It's extremely fertile land they sit on afterall, and the seas surrounding it are full of fish. Honestly, I'd take the risk, even for Cerion's sake." It was a worthy risk, in Daeron's eyes - it had all the potential to be something great and worthy of Tywin's attention, due to it's massive population. Lys was one of the most populous ports in Essos; it had the potential to outdo the Reach in terms of productivity of grain and other foods on it, when the proper modern technology for farming were implemented on the island, anyhow.

"I know, Daeron. I would've preferred he died honestly, because that way this problem wouldn't be a problem to begin with for me nor my half Westerling offspring."

Cersei snorted. "Cerion reminds me of a younger Jaime and I think he's wonderfully adorable for that fact alone" Daeron thought that when Cersei and Jaime were younger, that they looked too similar for their own good." But regardless, I think you'd have bigger problems if Jaime left the King's Guard than the imp coming back and causing mayhem on the Cerion's rightful claim though. And I even doubt Jaime will attempt to leave the King's Guard, as it was." Jaime Lannister was her rather hot-headed twin that did not impress Daeron remotely. He was only but a hot tempered tourney jouster - and that was about it as far as it stood, on how he impressed Daeron, he wasn't particularity a witty, and he lacked a purpose to Daeron beyond being a member of the King's Guard, which disallowed marriages and owning land. He also was useless to Tywin, his own father of whom barely spoke to him after Cerion, his current heir was born from the womb of Helena Lannister. Honestly, nobody would care if Jaime died - but then again, he doubted he would care if Egg died either.


	4. The Companies of Essos

**Robert**

The sky was dark with rain as Robert Baratheon and his men walked slushy in the heavy muck towards the large forests of the plentiful Northern Andalonous where his men could build a proper defense structure on the tops of the large, bulky hills. They were fighting the combined forces of the Golden Company and Company of Roses - something that was rather unfortunate given that they'd be outnumbered one to ten by their forces whenever they choice to appear in defense of Pentoshi. Or if they decided to skirmish them - that was a possibility as well, given that many a company did such a thing.

"Right, we're gonna build camp on one of those hills up there and wait for them to strike us," It was rather glad that this place provided so many hills, Robert thought, as he stared at them at the large hills above them and off the main road, the road they were currently traveling to save time for their invasion of the Free City of Pentoshi. They were covered in a thick dense green forestry, which was also perfect for cover from this tenacious rain thundering up above their heads. They walked in the slosh underfoot, even as going as far as to dismount their horses and walk alongside them in this weather.

The hill Robert referred too was the closest nearby them - it was covered in a thick dust of heavy green bushy trees swirling around in the wind. "I'm sure that'll affect the Golden Companies elephants." Jae Targayen, the golden-silver haired boy stated with much sarcasm as they got off the trail and into the wilderness around them. Here, it was said they could find large beers traversing the water-grounds of Pentoshi , and they were well-known for being dangerous, indeed. They had a fearsome reputation for tearing the bones off of travellers, but they were also a reclusive race that hydrated half-a year each year - so they might not even encounter one of their species, if the Companions were lucky, that is.

"I'm also sure the Golden Company will be delighted to know that a lonesome Targaryen is out a-wondering with another company. Maybe you'll be their first target, Jae." Jason Swann, his second in command, laughed. They thought so, because the Targaryen family exiled them ages ago for siding with the pretender Daemon Blackfyre and his many descendants - so thus they'd have a grudge against the Targaryen family, leftover by Bittersteel, their founder. Not to mention, they sided with the Blackfyres at least three times thus far; with them coming from the mutated two heads monster that was Maelys the Monstrous. No doubt Jae heard stories about him, and how the man tore his cousin's head straight off of his shoulders trying to get in control of the Golden Company; they were suspicious of anti-Targaryen bias, but they could, indeed be wrong about this.

Jae rolled his eyes at the statement, before looking at the red-coloured three dragons on his chestplate. "Rhaegar wouldn't give a single damn though if I died. Neither do I think Maekor or Daeron ever cared either. Only mum would care enough to grieve if I perished..." He sounded quite bitter and angry about this fact, as they climbed up the hill. It was said that they could see an Andal town from that vantage point upon the hill, or so the local guides told them as Robert politely asked for directions to the nearest town due to the need for re-supplying for his men and nought to mention, they needed to warn the people to dissipate from the valley in the case they destroyed villages and what-not during their conflict. It was important, because they didn't want to be responsible for any innocent deaths.

Swann's bright blue eyes eyes widened and decided not to answer to Jae's bitter-filled comment, which was a wise course of action. Robert sighed, watching Jaeherys - he was a fairly muscular man with deep purple eyes and glossy silver-gold hair; of which he placed in a neat ponytail. Robert thought he bared the most resemblance to King Rhaegar in terms of an appearance than otherwise. They both shared the same sad dark deep purple eyes, unlike the vast majority of their siblings; Daena, his brother's wife, had deep purple eyes too, but they were filled with a sense of adventure and mischievous rather than a sense of despair like his eyes contained.

He was tempted to mention Daena's existence to him, but choice to ignore it as they stood on the hill overlooking the village. They'd find themselves of what appeared to be a ruined sept, with the many gods having tumbled off the side of the hill and into the grasslands below; whole, but not standing anymore as they fell into a clump down below. But they could see the seven sided base still sitting though, even though it appeared to be in tatters for the most part. Rain and wind stuck to it's somewhat eroded base as the wind howled and reigned on the sides of it's basis.

"Well, that's bloody glorious." Jae smirked. "The Gods decided to take a tumble off a cliff, I see." He started at the statues, sitting in a disassembled pile at the base of the hillside. This was a bad sign, Robert thought, and he wasn't very religious as far as one went about such things - but seeing that could be a bad sign, indeed.

Robert stared at them and shrugged. "The town looks to be up ahead." He didn't want to interfere with the village - which included the statues. The gods are naught going to be pleased. Robert thought briefly.

The town appeared to be made of decently made brick houses and apartments, but it was a tiny town, barely a village by Westeros standards. Not much Andals were left in Essos after the Invasion several thousand years ago, much less permanent settlements. This was quite a rare little town; because it was said to both Rhonyar and Andals living in it; the Rhonyar here came from the riverside half a century ago after the Rhone decided to flush away there settlement down it's long bay, and thus they decided to resettle elsewhere.

"It looks like a cute little town to me." Jae had started walking down the hill, carefully to avoid stepping on the statues. "Best let the locals know we will likely destroy their town with our battle."

"And put back the statues at least. They are the Gods afterall.."

He stared at them - they looked as though they were rather stuck in thick, murky mud. It was highly unlikely Jason by himself would dislodge them, but Robert wouldn't complain if he did though. But they had other more important tasks to do, like making sure that his men were buildings tents around this general vicinity. It was a strong defensive outpost; It overlooked the valley's defensives and the valley was full of gentle streams and lakes; not quite unlike the Stormlands when one got around to looking. It was also full of large, green trees; which provided a wonderful vantage point. The wind was soft, but iced cold; and the rain stopped it's haul for a minute to allow the group to stare at the valley within.

The valley was mostly grassland, with just a few of those robust trees that were in the forest behind them were loose upon the ground. Some of the land had been turned into farmlands, with large quantities of white wheat stuck out of the ground on the fertile ground. They also had a gentle stream of water coming In from one of the mountainous regions. It kind of reminded him a bit of the Westerlands, if Robert ever saw that region of Westeros for himself that was. Robert was unfortunate enough not to have gone to that region in his life, but he knew enough. He had always imagined to be a bit mountainous like this, due to the Westerlandy bastards being dubbed 'Hill' as it was and because of the amount of mines the entire place had.

"Robert, the scouts we sent ahead made sure that the town was empty." Jae sighed, thinking about it. They even came back with some of the Andals and Rhonyar of the nearby village, of whom had heard of Robert's fearsome reputation in these parts. The Rhonyar men were strong and lusty from a lifetime of blacksmithing for the local Lords of the region, and the two Andal men that did appear were much taller in appearance to the Rhonyar. They also appeared like warriors, for the most part - with fit shoulders and had naturally athletic frames.

"Some of em even joined us." Robert chuckled. "I like the spirit of the Rhonyar men. They're the hardy, hard-working sort of men. They'll be the ones willing to fight for this land to death. The Andals just like keeping on moving though, to avoid being assimilated by the local Lords; though they still think of Andalos as there's though.. even after all this time." He kind of said this somewhat awkwardly - it had been several thousand years since the Andal Invasion of Westeros. And yet some still remain here, as wandering Warriors rather than venturing to Westeros...

Swann laughed as the men began building tents for the siege ahead of them; some warrior woman from the Parimony of Hyrkoon in the far east came bouncing her large titties around as she helped them put the tents on the mules brought alongside some of their Westerosi companions - most were second sons of Lords, but some were first son and heirs looking for some fun while they were at it; or some came for gold and profit; like the warrior woman from the Patrimony of Hyrkoon. Those woman were sellswords, but men liked them - indeed, until they found out that in the Patrimony almost all of the men were castrated from a young age besides for the strongest boys in their culture, which included their luxurious leader, the current so-called Father.

They begun setting up their tents on the soft soul, overlooking the bright-cheery rose filled outbacks, and than, at dusk, they begun setting a plan in motion for what they were about to do about all of those fellows following them.

 ** **Harry Strickland****

Harry was not accustomed to working with a woman, amongst other things, as a another leader. She was supposedly called Bloody Mary, for her bloody red locks, and the way she dealt with enemies. She was supposedly of Bolton blood - and that House was well known for skinning it's enemy's alive, so he could only make assumptions as to what horrible things she did to her foes that she kidnapped or the like.

They were sitting in Master Illyo's patio, overlooking the city below them. The city was a trades port, well supported by Westeros interests - although it was not as advanced in terms of technology as Myr was. Myr was a city of wonders and beauty, with its city of artisans and whatnot - but Pentoshi was a pretty enough city on it's own, full of seafaring merchants selling fish and other collectables found during sea-trips, and full of people escaping from the now supposedly free Lys. Lys had forgone it's Slave Trading ventures since the Lady Lyanna took a hold of the place; and thus, Pentoshi was getting an influx of Lys's old merchant class. The Merchants of Sex, they were called, and with them they attempted to make a living off of making sex slaves, just as before, but since Lyanna caught the vast majority of them taking off with ships containing their beautiful servants, they were forced to make do with the slaves here. Most of them begged Master Illyo to declare war on Lys, to take their investments back from the hands of Lyanna the She Wolf - and because Master Illyo was rather fond of Lysiesan Concubines, he gladly obliged them and was on his way to conquer the island with a rather large feet; despite the efforts of Jon Arryn's Gulltown Fleet, that was kept on reserve on Lys in the case that anything happened. That fleet was considered dangerous by most a man as it stopped Aegon the Dragon in his tracks as he tried conquering the land.

"We've seen them, sitting nearby the Andal town of Regan." Marry was gently positioning herself on her chair as she said so. The woman carried with her a war-hammer, similar enough to Robert's famous Warhammer. But it was crafted for a small, dainty thing like her.

"Great, I suppose." Robert Baratheon was a fearsome warrior, with a reputation for smashing in his enemy's - and making them his-once enemy's friends, in his own right. But it was highly unlikely the charismatic Robert was doing such a thing now. "They choice a mountainous region for us to attack them in. They know how defensive the territory is, that's why they chose it as a place of battle. But I'm suspicious because that's not a tactical choice I would've expected the well-known impulsive Baratheon to make, not unless he somehow became more cautious overnight... ." He shrugged - he would've done it though, because it was a wise area to set up in - because it provided a vantage point of which allowed one to have the upper-ground, but Baratheon liked fighting on the open battlefield though, not on a ridge of sorts. He must've somehow became wiser overnight or the likes.

"I expect they're drinkin' some tea up there. I rather like Westeros herbal tea, it helps calms the nerves before a battle, I feel." She smirked, taking a sip out of her small dingy teacup. "But yeah, yer right, Baratheon is acting rather oddly. Did he bring 'em Stark fella with him? Starks always play cautiously."

Harry didn't really care for that - not really, it was a job. A _job of chasing after a bunch of wild Westeros Folks that decided that Essos was their playground_... Not to mention, the Targaryen Prince. Though, Harry felt as though he shouldn't care about the lad either, really. "I don't know, maybe?" He shrugged. Sometimes people called him a coward, due how cautious he was, but at least he was alive, and he was willing to keep the company alive - even at the expense at being called a coward. "But perhaps so. But whatever the case, I want to stop and disrupt Robert's forces before he comes to the city." They did, indeed have walls, but they were weak stuff though, and could easily be broken through, most unfortunately. Their strongest walls were along the coastline, in order to keep the raiders out, but Robert was travelling via land, not the sea. It was would be easier to deter them as long as possible, at the very least.

She raised her teacup. "Agreed. I'll lead the charge against him?"

"Yes." A wise man would not leave a comfortable, secure position like Andalos. He'd been through that area a fair few times, and even the former Guard Captain used the hills to hide their elephant from a distance from the nearby army. Andalos was the perfect spot and location to secure an army's food supply, due to how plentiful the animal life was in the hills above; and they had plenty of water; streams and fresh water ponds were spattered about on the hills. They'd have no trouble finding them, if they scouted ahead that was. But than again, an ambush conducted alongside the vast hills would be completely effective on their behalf though.

 ** **The Battle of Andalos Hills****

She, Bloody Marry, was in charge of half of the men; a vast six thousand, as what her 'boss' Mr. Cautious said; for a skirmish, to bother Lordy Baratheon and his eleven thousand men. The last she saw of Harry was him having an discussion with the fat Magister 'bout payments and what-not - and since the Golden Company was highly expensive to maintain, the Magister was sweating through his balls, making his face look as red as an apple. The man seemed tempted to let the opposition win, due to the amount hiring both of their companies costed to his personal bank account - and since Harry was a once a bank consult, it helped make things easier to digest for the fat greedy Magister, of whom was reported even wanting to hire Unsullied to keep out Robert The Hammer swammer wammer.

"It's said that Robert Baratheon once cut down a thousand man on his own with that Warhammer of his.." Rickard, her second command, stated nervously twitching as they moved towards the vast hill, even though the way they were going was the easiest - it was no defined by riggedly sharp cliffs and turn-offs like some of the other entrances into Andalos was, but this route was noticeably riddled with paths that could quite easily end in a massacre on their side. Andalos was also a bandit scum and others aliken to that due to the harsh ridges of Andalos - and nought to mention, it was a well-hidden location, for the most part, due to the many, many trails up to the peak of the large hill. It was also considered holy by the Seven Gods of Westeros, due to the Seven descending from the vast hills of Andalos to send them to Westeros on a holy mission, supposedly according to some Andals she spoke too. They claimed they didn't leave to Westeros due to the Seven demanding that they stay and protect the holy Hill that the Seven came out of.

"And that he rides a wolf into battle, screaming as he swings that hammer of his and cuts trice men in half with one blow of it" Said one of her other weaklings.

"Those are just pure fabrications and myths meant to scare children like you." She frowned, as they walked up the vast hillside. It was quite windy and tumultuous up here on the mountain, with the weather changing as though it could not make up it's mind for what it was worth. She walked up, with her raven-coloured hammer strapped to her back as usual - she had named it Doomsbringer, due to how it brought doom upon her enemies as she cracked open their skulls like walnuts with it's strong metal tips. She had loved using hammers, even as a child that played at one of R'llor's grand temples in Myr with her purple-haired Tryoshi mother, ironically. "Robert Baratheon is just a normal smuck of a man that you hired man shouldn't be scared off."

"A normal smuck that took Lys... one of the most populous ports in the world, just because he wanted too." Someone snorted behind her, to her great annoyance. She ignored them, as they traversed the plain.

They were taking the easiest route into Andalos, the least bandit riddled.. or so the local guide claimed it was, but somehow she doubted it was. If this was the main road, with cliffs on each side, than it was more likely than nought that they were literally walking into a trap left by Robert and his gang. Or worse, Andallian Bandits. They were the worst kind of fellows - strong and fierce, and utterly remorseless. Worst still, they were likely stronger than any of the other bandits of the region, due to having Westerosi advanced technology on their side - it left Andalos quite dangerous indeed. She wouldn't want to be here long honestly, because as long as they dwelled with these cliffs above, the more chance it was likely that they'd get ambushed by someone and be completely unprepared for such an surprising maneuver.

"Be careful... we can easily get ambushed in these woods." She stated, quieting them down as they moved along the path. "We need nought gossip about Lord Baratheon's supposed accomplishments.." She stated, matter of factly. Now, was not the time to being as gossipy as a pair of girls; because being caught unaware of an attack from above would leave them perished.

That was indeed the case, for several of her men were hit square in the chest by an unknown assaultion shooting arrows from one of the rocks. She scampered - as the men in question came out from their hiding places - they were dressed in the armor of Lord Baratheon, the raven-gold insigma imprinted on their chests as they walked forward - she flug her hammer at them, before shrieking, "Roses never yield!" the hammer hit the first men in front her, before one of her the ambusher from behind her thrust a sliver swords through her, causing her to howl to the ground, as she watched the rest of her men fighting the ambusher to be pushed back. She saw handsome Rickard fall to the ground as a blonde-haired Andal man dressed in traditional Andal armour slayed them with ease. Blood of her friends were everywhere as they were attacked on either side by these ghosts; some of them were retreating to be shot down by a man wearing a white and black Swan insigma as he hunted down and chased down the survivors of the attack. Some of them surrounded, by dropping their gear and standing back to be rounded up by the raven and sliver-men wearing the colors of House Baratheon.

She fell to the ground, in a heap as she watched her men be helplessly slaughtered by the ambusher. A raven-haired man slowly walked towards her, alongside a silver-haired man? She didn't know, but she could see the Targaryen-three headed red dragon imprinted on his raven-coloured armor. She stared at them, before the Valyrian took a kneel to look at her. She felt her vision slipping as the blood seeped through her bronze armor; the man got through a weak vent in her armor. _I'm going to die from this wound..._ She knew, as she held on to her gashing deep red wound with her metal arm, in an unsuccessful attempt to clot the wound. Honestly, she felt, so very tired... she should sleep, but if she slept, she knew she'd likely never wake up again due to blood lose, so she kept herself awake purely out of will.

"Don... you... dare get close to me..." She snarled, trying to grab her bloodied knife from her pocket to fail. It burned, where he got her and she didn't know how long she'd last, due to him getting underneath her suit she wore. She spat blood, but she still was alive for now at least; but she wasn't sure how long she'd last though due the internal bleeding; she had also unfortunately, had decided to remove the buffer from her skin though. That was a mistake... now because now there was nothing keeping back the blood dripping from her.

"Oh, your still alive?" The Valyrian titled his girly mass of silver-gold locks. Honestly, to her, he looked akin to a bloody bitch to her at least due to his appearance and he had the locks and all of a bloody woman. A descendant of Aegon I, he was. "I guess, your our prisoner now, Lady mate."

 _How?_ Was her last thought before the lost of blood made her fall into a bloody trance. She remembered them briefly picking her up, as they left the area... though she couldn't understand any of the chatter around her as she hung onto dear life like she meant it.


	5. Winter is Coming

**Artos Snow**

"Welcome to the Watch, boy." His uncle stated, as he arrived through the icy doors of the Wall on the wooden back of the slow-moving, bumping vehicle, his grey eyes trained on the people in front of him. His uncle, Lord Brandon's youngest brother, was the current High Ranger of the Black, and Artos knew that he should expect no favours simply due to his relations to Lord Brandon Stark. Honestly, that connection never did him good, for he was cast with his Dustin-married mother for the majority of his fourteen years, and during that time, his grandfather, Rodrick Ryswell had managed his upkeeping when he was in the Rills. He actually trained there for quite sometimes as a horseback rider, due to the many hills and ridges the places provided, until they moved to Barrowton, where he learned how to fight good and proper from the Master-at Arms of Barrowton, of whom Artos remembered to be a very large, and very robust man, with a great deal of skill given that he fought in the War of the Ninepenny Kings in Essos at one point in his long life.

"Ello uncle Benjen." Artos responded amiably, towards his uncle, as the rest of the boys got off the trolly. One of them was a fat obese boy, not one long for the wall, Artos would think, seeing how the cold made the boy's lips as deep as a blue as the wall itself. Artos was none too sympathetic for the boy, being in his situation at least. The Wall did not allow for weakness, and would likely kill the boy as any of the wildings would likely do. However, he was more interested in the fact that a Blackwood, with their notable dead tree insigma, was on the trolly too - given that his family had some relations to the Dreadlords through the current Lord of their house's sister was married to the current Dreadlord himself. Together, they had three children, Domeric, Lyarra, and the quiet, shy and reserved Robert, of whom spent some time at Barrowton before going off to the Riverlands to be sheltered under his uncle Tytos Blackwood. His memories of Robert was fond though, the boy wasn't very malice, and was extremely polite and well-mannered, as far as he remembered, and he loved cats and readings books - even though he had the most wicked sense of humor out of everyone he had ever met thus far. "My father sends his chummiest remarks to you, as usual. He said I was a present, on the behalf on the Seventy-Nine Sentinels of the Watch." He sighed, thinking about that tale of that one particular foolhardy Ryswell that lacked the good judgement to fulfill his Black by becoming a cowardly white-coat alongside ninety-seven former members of the Black Guard. The tale ended, of course with them running to Lord Ryswell, the gang's leader's father, for safety from the Cloak, to be taken back to the Wall by him, where they were put in holes in the ice to forever guard the Wall in death. He however, was of Stark blood, and a Stark would never their post from the wall under any circumstances

"Hmm. You know there shall always be Starks to protect the wall, no matter what." Benjen stated. "Now come along Artos, Lord-Commander Jeor shall speak to you new recruits soon enough, and you mustn't miss it." As he put on a harsh hand on Artos's shoulder, propelling the boy past the common boys, that stared at him open-eyed, as he was being escorted by the High Ranger himself. It was an honor, but truthfully, Artos did not need feel very special treatment; he may have been nobly-trained in the art of horseback riding, a trait he especially excelled at given his bloodline from his mother's side lived on a mass of hills and ridge, and was a good, but not exceptional hand at sword-fighting and dueling, though enough to be a terrible foe towards those wilding's he'd presumably be facing. Obviously, he'd be a ranger - he'd be no good a Stewart or builder - he was meant to be fighting, and wished his death to be least something of worth... Even if it was a forgotten one, at that.

"Yes, High Ranger." He responded, rather than by calling Benjen by his name, but by his title."I also know despite my rank as Lord Brandon's bastard, I mustn't expect any special treatment. Brandon himself told me so, before I arrived here." He remembered his father - he was a rather tall man, with blaring grey-coloured eyes - his eyes, to be exact, and the Dragonglass greatsword of Ice hung off of his back. The sword was the biggest fookin' greatsword he'd ever seen in his life, and he's seen a many large swords in his life, but nothing seemed to be as big as Ice was. A very strong man had to hold that sword, and Brandon carried it well, indeed. Though truthfully, he probably just carried it to see him, and to tell him bye, rather than actually to use it in battle or combat. It was purely a ceremonial sword, unless to cut off of heads though, and Brandon said he once cut one off a disobedient lesser bannerman, though Brandon did not say whom the rebellious Lord was though. His father also gave to him a direwolf pup, one of six pups found by a dead bitch in the woods; and decided he'd have the sixth one. He'd have named it Winter, given that she was an albino pup, and she had the right coloring for such a name, anyhow.

He stared at his uncle, before he took a hand off of his shoulders and stood before Lord Commander Jeor Mormont, a rather sharp-looking elder man wearing the Bear insigma of his House. He was standing before the masses, with his hands on his sword, as he was about to make a speech. He settled down, along with the rest of the new recruits, as he watched the old Bear - the rather impressive Lord Commander, presumably do the usual speech he gave to new-commoners to the Watch's gaze.

"Welcome to the Wall, new recruits. Some of you will make it, some of you will not. But it matters not, we need all the hands we can get our hands on." Jeor stated bluntly, as he continued. "Truthfully, we're full of a bunch of old men and green boys, not like the days of old, when we got the best of the crop." He shrugged, listening more firmly to the statement in question. Maester Aemon, the old, blind man and the Maester of the Wall, appeared on the side of him, his once presumably bright eyes were dull now. He was said to be over-a hundred years old, making that quite a remarkable feet. "And some of us might be of Great Houses, but that matters nought. House loyalties do not exist in any fashion on the wall." Now that seemed to be targeted at him, mostly. He also went over how the Wall was an apolitical force, and how no man could break, and ladada, Artos knew this because he once read that the Lord Commander during the Conquest was a Hoare, and even after Aegon the Dragon burnt the Hoares in Harrenhal, he refused to marshal his men together to go against Aegon the Dragon's forces.

Once Jeor was done with his lecture for the new-commoners to the Wall, they soon got to work fighting with wooden swords. He himself was well-use to fighting with metal swords, against actual foes, like his uncle Roose Ryswell, his first trainer - he was a mighty fine hand, with a sword, and beat him into a pulp several times before he got a hang of the feeling the metal against his hand and against some cousins of Lord Dustin at Barrowton. They were better, than these clearly less superior opponents he was faced up against; and he knew it, too. It made him a little bit guilty, having a Lord's education whilst these green boys were probably just sons of farmers, or what-not, and not to mention, he had a fearsome Direwolf friend with him as company as well, not only just having his own skills and prowess in battle. He was at an unfair advantage over these country bumpkins, and they seemly knew it, for some of them looked at him with some-half faced fear on their faces.

 **Edric 'Ned' Stark**

It was a cold, wintery day around Winterfell, as Ned and his father were sitting on two, comfortable bearskinned-covered chairs front of the hearth of Winterfell, despite the heat pump coming from underneath themselves coming from the natural hot pools underneath Winterfell's surface, it could get awfully cold. He was having some Kingslander tea, whilst his father was drinking out of a big larger of ail in his hands. It was even said to be snowing outside, ironically, given that he had just sent a Snow away to the Wall, alongside with Benjen Stark, his uncle. That Snow-Half brother of his had briefly appeared at Winterfell, alongside his stingy mother, Lady Barbrey Dustin, and Ned thought that Artos had been a rather nice person, from what he saw of him. Which wasn't much, given that he was raised away from Winterfell, but sometimes his father went to visit Barbary and Artos whilst they were still at the Rylls.

"Did you name our bastard brother after Artos the Implacable or did Barbrey Ryswell?" Ned wondered briefly - he thought it was rather a good jest, to name someone after the last wilding kingslayer, and than send him to the Wall. He was obviously was meant for greatness, much like his namesake, Ned at least hoped so - he held no ill will against Artos for his bastardy. He actually hoped he excelled there, and became one of Benjen's right-hands men, if Benjen ever arose to be Lord Commander of the Night's Watch that was.

"The woman did." Brandon snorted, taking a gulp of his large glass of ail. "Bugger that, Ned. I don't want to speak about my bastard. I have better things to worry about.. like that bloody 'civil' war as their calling it now. I'm forced to deal with a wife, your mother, whom wants me to act on it, and me myself whom don't want to involve the North in such fookery. I don't want to deal with none of those sides, not as long as I can be forced to at least." He snorted, as he sat lodged on his bear skinned chair, chugging his ail in one hand, though he didn't appear to be drunk yet, at least.

"I don't blame you, getting involved in the Iron Throne's meticulous affairs is rather unimportant to those of us that dwell in the North." And not to mention, they had no reason too. Nobody cared if the North was indifferent, because the North could get away with it as far as one was concerned, and not to mention, they've been keeping out of the Iron Throne affairs for a long while before this entire allies things came about for their southern neighbours. They had no reason to act, and act they shadn't, as they've done for countless generations beforehand. Why should they change that just because of their mother was a Tully?

"Exactly, Ned." Brandon replied blithely. "That's exactly why we didn't go attend that boring meeting in King's Landing; it's not like we were invited to it anyhow. They didn't even invite Dorne to their little tea party, or so I hear. She, your mother wanted us to attend that rather boring affair you know, to let you and your siblings meet Robin Arryn and her other nieces and nephews; I swear, we've got so many of them, that I don't think about it by this point. Not beyond your uncle Ned's children, I suppose." The fact that they both shared a mutual nickname was not lost on him at all. It was sort of a joke that he and his uncle had, when Eddard came to visit with his children and his wife from Lys. Although they (besides for his uncle Ned) complained about how cold the North was in comparison to the luxuriously hot Lys, which was pretty funny to Ned, given that they all looked like proper Starks, with the long faces and deep grey eyes.

"I doubted the Ironborn attended either. Balon Greyjoy rather hates leaving his little island of Pyke, beyond for maybe a nice pillaging of the Bear Islands and Lannisport, I suppose." He knew that his son Theon, was married to a Lannister, but it made no difference on the Lord Paramount's behaviour though. The Lord Paramount would undoubtedly break that alliance between his son and the Lions Lords, without blinking a single eye at the precautions of such a feet of dishonour. Personally, he believed the lost of two of their sons wasn't enough to make Balon Greyjoy stop doing rash thing on the mainland, at least in his father's mind. The Iron Born had been sacking his lands as of late, and he was getting awfully tired of it, and was willing to rage war against Balon to stop his illicit activities in the North.

"Oh fuck that man." Brandon said immediately, putting down his cup. "I'm going to sack him on his island real soon if he doesn't stop sending Reavers over here to murder and kidnap my people for his twisted ol' ways. He's done that to Bear Island, several times, and each time the woman had to chase them off. He's also tried to sack Lord Glover's holdings too, which makes Glover upset. Honestly, fook Balon Greyjoy. I hope his son is better than he-whom-never learns any lessons about messing with other High Lords." He snarled, clearly enraged at the prospects. Though they were running high on debt, considering they had some of their soldiers stationed on Lys. About half of men in Robert's Brave Companions were of Northerns - the other half of it Stormlanders. It was a large sum of men; eleven thousand, but at least it gave the Stormlanders and the Northerns even more cause to be friends; they were both stuck with having to deal with the exhausting debt left behind by such a feet, and the fact that they were each down about five thousand/six thousand men each for Robert's army. They also had mutual cause with those brave souls on the new county, considering they were family members; cousins, aunts, and such, ruling over the island, though it was a rather messy business. The Iron Born would love to pillage and rape them as well, but one thing stopped them from doing so; Theon Greyjoy, the heir of Pyke and of the Iron Isles.

"He kind of deserves it, dad." Ned replied humbly. "But do we have the funds to afford such an expedition? And how do we know that Theon Greyjoy, his son, wouldn't attack us for doing this deed?" He had heard of Theon's repute across the seas; he was known to some as the Shark, the great Squid, and the Audacious. But somehow, he doubted Theon would care very much, given that it wasn't much of a secret that he had a bad relationship with his father.

"I don't care what the fookin' Greyjoys think about me doing anything, Ned." He snapped. "If that pirate's son wants to give me trouble, he'll go down with 'is foolish father and uncles, for all I give a damn." Brandon took a large sip of his ail, nearly emptying it before slamming it against the under table next to him. "Get me another ail, boy." He turned towards the nervous looking boy, of whom was Brandon's fetcher boy. He was rather short, with copper hair and loose amounts of acne on his blemished skin. Ned watched as he ran with Brandon's cup to go fill it with the honey-brown substance from the nearest opened canister of beer.

"Okay, father." He responded docilely to his father's outburst. Sometimes, he felt like he had to walk on a tightrope with him, less he blow up and cause a commotion about. Ned did not want that tragedy of anger to be directed at himself though.

"Damn right, Ned." He shushed the fetcher boy off when he got the refill of the glass cup he had held previously.

 **Theon Greyjoy**

"You mean to tell me, mate, that my father intends to invade the North? Is he that much of a fookin' idiot? He'd have better luck with plundering Lannisport than doing that folly." He was speaking to his good-brother, Aleksander Boltley. Theon considered him to be a rather sufficient commander, at the very least - enough that he could join his armada of ships if he ever choice too. But somehow, he doubted that Aleksander would consider such a course of action, given that he was only loyal to his uncle, Victorian. He said this, whilst walking on the balcony in Lys, overlooking the lovely, beautiful coastal city - with various Gibbet's basking in the summer heat as it befell them, and he could hear the sobbings of the upstuck nobles stuck inside of them. In all honesty, they deserved their fate, for they were the unfortunate nobles that Lyanna had caught trying to escape the city with slaves to the Stepstones or the other free cities, and Oberyn only offered a solution for that problem, whilst he caught them barehanded with his ships, the Storm-Catchers as he liked to affectionately call his armada of ships he had with him.

"It's what I tried to convey this to Victorian as well, but he wouldn't listen to me." Boltely muttered. "I'm a good Iron Islander, but I refuse to get meself nor my children killed, attacking the idle beast that is Lord Brandon Stark. He could get our arses kicked so hard, that even Black Haren could see it in his grave under the waves. I'd rather not be caught up In that business, so I asked Victorian if I could go meet up with the heir to the Iron Isles, seeing as your my good brother."

"My foster father once said that a man that never learns his lessons will be the man that finds himself dead sooner rather than later." Theon found that quote from the Lion Lord to be sufficient enough to explain his father's transactions as-of late. In all honesty, if he died, than all the better; he wished for the Iron isles to be a prosperous place, not the slimey shite hole that it was currently. With their alliance with the Lannisters, he could successfully defeat those old traditions back into the sea, where they rightfully belonged.

"I never thought I'd agree with what a Lannister says, but I guess for Asha's sake I have too." He snickered.

"I never thought I'd marry one, but alas, here I am." Theon decided not to smile at the remark at his sister, even if he was her husband. "Nevertheless, thank you for the information, Lord Botley. I'll be sure to put it this to good use..." Theon was deciding what he'd do about his father. For starters, he couldn't allow him to attack Lannisport, given that his wife, the ever-so beautiful Lady Eileen was there alongside their children. His first son, Quellon was his jewel of his existence and he'd never let them down, nor Lord Lannister for that matter. They were his family, more so than the Greyjoys, of whom had been he'd had met had thus far have been rather disappointing, beyond Asha and her good-husband; Asha was brave and stubborn; at least in his eyes and was as fierce as any Dornish woman he'd ever met, and this was upon his first encounter with Asha too.

"Your welcome, my Lord Greyjoy. I'm only trying to do what's right by Asha, even if she protests against it and tries to throw me into the ocean for 'being' too overprotective of her being." Botley laughed, joviality, before mockily bowing before him, with something dastardly in his deep brown eyes. "I'll be sure to keep in touch with you, mate. Excluding If Victorian decides to recall me back to the Iron Isles." He sighed, clearly dissatisfied by that idea.

Theon didn't remark on his sister, and simply looked at the city. Since Lyanna took it over, it had grown - with a many nobles from many places in Westeros coming from far and wide to this unpresented land-grad that had not been seen since the Andals own conquest of Westeros. It was quite something indeed, even though there was clues of a rebellion happening in the darkest edges of the city, where the whores lived from Swann palace all the way to the dingiest pub imaginable. Lyanna had been attempting to subdue the supposed rebellion she was warned about by their trusted Spymaster, Oberyn Martell, but honestly, he could care less about that. He only had concerns about the rather large fleet coming from the combined efforts of the Free Cities; they were said to be powerful enough to rid the Ironborn off of the Stepstones (which was the event that led to Lord Quellon becoming deceased, as he valiantly held back the ships from taking their port, to falling in grace when they destroyed his ship, with himself on it). So thus, he was rather worried about this.

He sent away Boltely with a flicker of his hand, as he contemplated on what to do next about that particular situation brewing next to them. On one hand, they had walls around the city and could use the ol' oil and flame trick if needed to keep them away the fleet invading them, but on the other, they'd butcher the local life if they did that deed and they needed the fish to keep them alfoat on the island. For there was a certain danger, lurking in the deep tropical woods of Lys; which was full of poisons, and other various creatures that could murder one if needed. So the fish were their only source of food, beyond the agricultural elements the island somewhat indulged in, given that they had numerous other sources of food on the island.


	6. The Bringer of Light and Dark

**Tryion Lannister**

Tyrion was admiring the brightly colored Lysien smallfolk, from his carried vessel, as the men moved him ahead of the vast, unsettled Valyrian-looking crowd ahead of them. He saw Westerosi traders, dressed in the House colors of House Baratheon and the half-crescent black-and-white insignia of House Swann, selling weapons and vast armies of silver plated armor, alongside a sew of well-equipped bodyguards standing watch nearby their various stands. He sighed, closing the curtains of his mobile transport, before staring at his little girl. Lanna was laying alongside with her nursemaid, as the woman fed her milk from her big, luxurious pink nipple she had out in the open - honestly, Lanna was all Tyrion had left for family anymore. He did everything for her, considering he couldn't have done the same for her mother, but what was done was done. He sighed, as he stared at the unscrupulous Lord Bellamy. He didn't quite trust the man, couldn't quite, but nevertheless Lyanna sent him on his way to discuss the supposed Rebellion he somehow came across, most likely due to spies; indeed, in the aftermath of the Westerosi conquest, he amongst others was the first to bend the knee to Lyanna and Robert, which saved him from being gibbeted by Lyanna in the aftermath, fortunately for him. He was the lowest of low merchants, a sex merchant, if you will, but either way Tyrion found the man to be disgusting at most and a unfortunate nuisance at worst, given how powerful he was within the city.

"So Lord Bellamy, tell me everything I know about this so-called rebellion of the whores." Tyrion had heard rumors, from his own.. whore... Every man has needs. that the former concubines were amassing a rebellion against Lyanna's reign. Something Tyrion wished to put an end too, for Lanna's sake. He stared at her fine golden locks, and her little white trim up of a gown with little gold trimmings at the end of it.

The Trolley itself was rather simplex, with wooden seats with simple white pillows attached to it. It also had four regular seats, with Tyrion and his daughter sitting across from Lord Bellamy, the bald-haired man that sat across from with them with a intricately made golden chalice in his soft-looking manicured hands. He was sitting cross-legged, like a Westerosi Lady might do in her billowing dress, in order to keep comfortable. He also had a whore of about three-and-ten years sitting by his side, as he held onto her like a piece of property. She had long, curly golden locks and bright sky-blue eyes to add on too it, but he kept her locks in two large pony tails on either side of her face, making her look very innocent indeed. She had a heart-shaped face, with a dimpled smile and a delicate face to add on to it, but she looked immensely uncomfortable in the much older man's grasp. He was unable to do anything to help her, so he ignored her for the time being.

Lord Bellamy was an awful little man that loved children. He was wrinkled in the face, with deep, sharp, squinted, little steel emerald colored eyes that made Tyrion feel uncomfortable as he stared at the breastfeeding Lanna with something entirely unbecoming in his eyes. If Tyrion didn't need him, he would've promptly deposed of him on the side of the road as a rotten corpse, but alas he needed this gentlemen. He also was unusually skinny, and wore various jewels on his hand, despite wearing the plainness of clothes imaginable. He wouldn't have looked very conspicuous, with that peasant grab he wore currently. But the thing that stood out to Tyrion was his ringed hands, and one ringed right ear, which made him look like some kind of bloody pirate. "Now, now, there Dwarf, I need payment before I tell the secrets of my beautiful girls in my salon." He had the greasiest, blackest teeth on out of anyone that Tyrion had seen, and a rather unseemly smile to add on to this display. He also something about him that could unnerve most people, but Tyrion simply couldn't place what it was about him that made him special in this regard.

"I'll pay you with placing you in a gibbet." Tyrion threatened the man, "or maybe you'll even get the ol Bolton torture device. You see, the Bolton family in Westeros do love torture, beyond of course just flaying mind you, but you, you deserve the pointed Bolton box." The pointed box was a platform which was pointed and the person in question would slowly either bleed to death or be impaled upon its sharp point. Not to mention they had to sit on it butt-nude, and it could days, even weeks, before they died the most terrible deaths either. Tyrion was not usually disposed to using torture, but sometimes people like this rich, spoilt little man could use it, sometimes.

Bellamy's smile disappeared. "Fine than, if you shalt pay me my due, than I shalt tell you a single thing. I am risking my neck for you, Lord Lannister. My girls are my greatest possession, and yet you choose to threaten me with violence? How dare you? Lady Lyanna treated me with more dignity than you. Hmph." He hummed to the driver, "Pull ova, now, sweet cupcake. It would appear I'm not needed."

"Bellamy, I jest you not, if you leave this compartment that your life and all of your fortunes are for forfeit. So me giving you your payments would be rather redundant. Now give me the information, or the very thing you'll be hearing is yourself screaming in pain and agony." Lyanna had thought it necessary to do this to the man, like the shrewd, but ultimately cruel woman she was. She had to be cruel in order to be kind to others, even as a noblewoman of her birth.

"Bah, it matters not." He snarled, before staring at the babe with something of interest in those cold eyes of his. "I need nought of your threats, Lord Lannister. But threatening me with torture will only do you more harm than good. I'm vera popular amongst the common folk, due to me giving them careers with their otherwise meaningless and pathetic lives. To see me tortured would only make them over-react... and oh, cause a mass riot which I doubt your army could sufficiently deal with." He gave a sultry smile, as they slowed down a tad bit. His smile was overtly long, given that he had a strong, meaty mouth - he also had distinctly minty smelling breath - for a man like him, he also smelled pretty well, like rosemary soap or something, but whatever the case, but it wasn't important.

"You, my friend have plenty of blood on your hands." Tyrion stared directly on those steel eyes of his. "I know for certain that you help with the other Prince's escaping with illegal slaves on their vast ships, none-the less to other free cities, despite it being illegal and illicitly stated by our fine ruler, Lady Lyanna. You also are still alive because of your immense influence, as you put it, but you also have a repute for backstabbing the other Princes, given that you work for us now. You demanding payment for even having your land, your whores, and your influence in tact is rather machiavellian of you, Gaël Bellamy." This Lord of the City also controlled most of the street patrols, of whom were known to be villainous and backstabbing, like their own leader indeed, and they carried his own personal insignia of the Lusty Goddess of the Summer Isles on an offset red background, everywhere with them. Indeed, they also caused mayhem for the black-cloaks, Lyanna's own personal city patrol, by basically warring against them for control of the city and its denizens.

The Lord sneared upon hearing this. "I have no oft you any violence, Lord Tyrion Lannister."

"You also are warring with Lyanna's own watch. Why should we trust you enough to pay you for your services when you are just going to use it to undermined Lyanna's reign? I wonder why? I do suggest you talk now." He drank some of his tea he had placed orderly from King's Landing whilst staring at Bellamy's small, scrunched up face which looked baffled almost.

"Okay fine." He brooded, in a sort of melancholy-like way. "The whores wish to see the magisters back in power, so that they may become the next Black Swann on their backs. With Lyanna in power, they cannot do that, because she's in the way of that transgression. The keyholder to this whole debacle is said to a whore that was the most debased from the invasion from Westeros. I wonder whom that could be, right?" The man titled his head to stare at Tyrion, as if he was questioning Tyrion like the little beetle-creature Lord Bellamy was. "But anyhow, her name is Augusta. Augusta, the Queen of Whores and the wearer of the biggest titties in Lys. She's said to be quite a marvelous little creature, quite unlike my own beautiful concubines. I do hope to meet the whore someday, because such a creature would have the loveliest children." He gave a closed smile on this. "And I'd know, I have nearly twenty children of my own with my pair of lovely lady Concubines." I think i may have discovered the Walder Frey of Lys. Tyrion thought, whilst comparing Lord Bellamy and Walder Frey both to little weasels in the way that they appeared thus far. "So if you do catch Augusta De Rebela, the whore of rebellion, I'd like to personally see 'er for meself. She seems like she'd be quite a catch, don't you think so, Lord Tyrion?"

"No." This man knew too much, which made Tyrion feel slightly uncomfortable. "Do you know what those whores are planning?"

"Nope. I wish I did though, seems like quite a tittious affair though." He chuckled.

Tyrion gave him a small smile, but that was about it. "I'm glad you have a sense of humor about this entire ordeal, Lord Bellamy."

"I mean, I must. It's a rebellion of em whores. I can't find anything more amusing than that, beyond maybe seeing the other magisters trapped in ye Gibbets though. You know, I say hello to them every once in awhile with some coffee and one my various mistresses in one hand. They don't seem very amused to see me, but It's amusing to see them, sitting there. Sometimes, I even had one my hoes got sit under them, literally whilst eating something like a bloody animal. The look on their faces are rather priceless, but they can't do anything to me."

Tyrion nodded, before stopping the trolly. "Do you make her -" He pointed to the delicately dressed child whore. "Do that?"

"You mean my little Cassandra, a pure Andal girl through and through, to do such things? No. You know how I obtained her? Her father sold her for a shitty loaf of bread for his starving family on the Hills, and she's quite a beauty for one of her age." He didn't smile, but the look on his face was rather unsettling, indeed. The girl looked down, shamefully. She never not once, spoke a single word whilst they sat on the side of him, a look of discomfort was still prevalent on her young, delicate features. But then again, neither did the maid or his sweet daughter did.

Tyrion nodded. "Well I do believe our business here is done, unless you have something to substance to add to the rebellion of whores?" He stopped the trolley, before again staring at his daughter. It was irrational to bring the girl everywhere, and it was indeed a mistake to allow the dangerous Lord to see her, or her nursemaid, give that he might be able to use her to obtain an advantage over him, given that he was really that dangerous, but alas, it was what it was now. It was by pure accident that the Lord saw them to begin with, as he was just bringing them to Belle castle to settle her in.

"Nothing more to add. Thank you for your time, Imp." He didn't sound pleased, as he got out of the package alongside the girl. The girl's soft, small breasts were barely booming as she was hardly more than a mere child. She was dressed in a vibrant red material, unlike the noble whom dressed in the plainest of colors. He felt a sense of sorrow for her, as she was rushed out with the magister of whom gave him a sully nod and a crusted grin, as he had several farce golden teeth in his mouth. The place they settled the wayward

He then turned towards the driver. "Please continue us towards the palace, thank you very much. Now, as for you two." He stared at the two woman besides him. "It was by pure accident you were brought here."

"I know, m' Lord Lannister." Her name was Ada, and she was sitting with the babe, with a sweet, warm expression on her rather homely features. She, like the babe's mother and father, originated from Westeros, although her father was a trader of silks and other goods from across the world. He knew that much about Ada, his baby girl's sitting mistress, because she talked about her family from time to time, as she sung Lanna asleep with her gentle, musical singing voice she possessed. "Your daughter, Lanna was such a good girl for that deary man though." She was caring, at least. That was something, beyond her breasts. She seemed like the motherly kind; Tyrion also knew she was married with a babe of own, that Ada said was about Ada's age, making them breast-siblings to her breasts, she said this with a toothy smile.

He didn't smile, feeling a sudden sense of dread about what could befall his daughter. "Ada, when we get back to the palace I'll make sure you are protected from his wrath, if he decides to backstab us, that is, and fed us farce information." He had doubts he could trust the information he was given from the Lord, but he had no ways of making sure it was truthful, which slightly concerned him as far it went. She agreed, although bashfully. They would discuss it more when they got to the palace, the beautiful Belle, the most beautiful palace that Tyrion had ever seen, beyond maybe Casterly Rock, even though Casterly Rock was basically hidden in a mine though thus making it hard to judge it's beauty, beyond maybe the front gate of Casterly Rock, which was made out of the most robust material in Westeros to keep out foreign invaders from it's grand entrance and the treasure within.

"Yes, m' Lord." She couldn't bow in the thing, but she nodded her head in understanding.

 **Willam**

Willam didn't know why the Other left him alive when it slaughtered the others in his party. From the old man, Boromir Ironsmith - a well-known Ranger with a lifetime of ranges on his belt, to the young lord Waymar Royce of whom was laying face-down on the cold snow. Will could see Boromir's cold, dead but bright blue eyes, something that was as unnatural as the Other itself, of whom made Will feel cold besides himself even from a distant. Boromir also had some of the Other's icy weapon inside of his bloodied chest, and Will could see it due to the dull light the weapon possessed. Will shivered from his position under some random tree - he had broken an knee whilst running from the Other, and thus was incapable of doing very much. Will had indeed, put some of the snow on his leg to keep it cool, whilst he rationalized a way out of this mess, alive if possible.

First off, Will would need to collect that evidence from Boromir's chest, to give to Lord-Commander Jeor Mormont - if he didn't die first of something. Will knew of several ways he could die, immediately off the bat, from starvation, which was always an imminent possibility given that he was out in the wood. Or be killed by an returning Other, Will's eyes widened upon thinking about the Other. He was like the God's bane, in essence - Will had never seen such a creature in all of his four years at the Night's Watch. Was it a curse from the Seven? Will wondered, but Will had done nothing to deserve their ere, beyond being a born a bastard not even worth the name Waters, given that his father never bothered to claim him as his own. He always wondered about his father, even as a boy, and even as his mother succumbed to the dreaded pocks, and even when he was given up to that lowly Hedge Knight as a Squire.

He steadied himself of the ground, as he crawled over to Boromir, to collect the evidence for Lord-Commander Mormont, for Westeros, and even for Ser Robin, the knight that knighted him on the sept, and took care of him all those long years after his mother became deceased. He needed it, regardless of the intent... but then again...

Ser Waymar stood up off the ground with his ruined cloak, his eyes as blue and unforgiving as the Walker whom killed him. They were dead, like the younger Ser was, as he stumbled over to him, even as he tried grasping to get to the piece on Boromir's chest. The older man once had deep brown eyes, that always seemed to be laughing given the deep wrinkles under them. The man also was deeply scarred; he had a nose cut off, due to the effects of frostbite and a severely scarred face in general, but the older man always seemed to have a sense of humor and jolliness about him unlike some of the other Black Brothers.

Will's eyes widened, as he tried going backward, even disregarding his broken knee which hurt like one of the Hells as he tried going backwards. He knew, he saw him... Will needed to run, run back to Mormont and everyone else. Will knew terror, and he saw it, when he entered this bloody forest, with all of it's unwelcoming trees looming overhead, in a distinctively unwelcome way. They had faces, like the Weirwood Tree did - but Will was not of the Old Gods, like Boromir had been. Will prayed a quiet prayer to the Maid, above him, to give him some sort of clemency, or some level of assistance, in this time of need.

He saw the man overlooking him and like him, he got out his blade, before staring at the shambling corpse of Waymar with wide, and scared eyes. "Like you said before me, let us dance." Will knew that his blade wouldn't do anything against the Wright, but he suddenly felt a surge of adrenaline rushing through his blood upon seeing the Lordling shambling corpse.

Waymar only added to the allure and danger of the woods, and it's many unfriendly faces, as they stared their unfriendly gaze upon Will as he begun scotching back against their harsh barks slowly.

Will tried hacking at Waymar, for his blade to hit one of Waymar's shambling legs, with little to no effect, as he continued his seemly endless pursuit of Will, with his ghostly arms outstretched in this exercise, as if he were one of those undead that the Seven-Marked book kept on talking about in it's long, excessive tomb. It very much scared Will to think that the Gods might be inflicting this torture upon him for whatever sin he did, but he knew he was finished, as soon as Waymar came to his level and choked him with his icy touch. The last thing Will remembered was of seeing his cold, dead blue eyes and feeling the touch of his cold dead hands against his throat, so barbaric and hated-filled in nature, as he slipped off into the blue.

 **Viserys Targaryen**

The scenery was beautiful in the King's Garden, as his eldest brother King Rhaegar brought him out for a walk along the gentle riverside of the March. Rhaegar wore a simple raven-colored tunic and the simple crown of Aegon V upon his head, symbolizing his rather humble nature. He also wore only one ring on his finger - which was made of pure gold, to symbolize his marriage to Queen Alysanne.

The walkway was on a gentle slope, with a light, dusty trail following the trickling water besides them. There were also many apple trees here, growing in abundance on the side of the trail, along with many rows of delicate purple rosemary bushes, pink-colored blossomed flowered ivy grew on white arches, which they passed, and there were gardeners everywhere, taking track of the royal food supply. There was also lemon, orange, avocado, and even some light peach trees, amongst the apple orchids. They also grew some other small, non-tree fruits and vegetables, but they were elsewhere, in the official royal garden where they grew most of their own bounty. This place, however was not the royal garden, but rather a place which Rhaegar loved almost as much as his own seat of Summerhall. He constructed it, solely because he wished to bring Alysanne on a journey outside of the palace, and this place in it's solitude would do just fine, Rhaegar supposed when Viserys asked him about it.

"Brother, as King, I do wish to share something with you, if you do not mind." Rhaegar softly went, as he walked barefooted around the compound, like Baelor I the blessed did. His eyes were determined and clear as the day's sky, as usual. "I'm terribly concerned that Aly wouldn't survive another childbirth. She nearly died giving birth to Rhaenys, and I was forced to keep her with a Maester for half-a-year afterwards. Do you think I should get another woman to take her place, Viserys? I don't wish for Aly to die to give me my proper heir.. not my daughter mind you, I think that having her as the true, rightful heir would be messy of an ordeal, given that she already has other male relatives." He sighed. Viserys did not wish to see Alysanne's honor to be disposed on by Rhaegar, in all truthfulness. That would dishonor their family, and Viserys did not wish that - his own wife, the ever-so charming Roanna, would also disapprove of it as well, he knew. She was a pious, good woman, with a gentle heart of whom loved charity work, which she did every year or so, for schools and rights for the small-folk.

"She's your rightful wife that's served you faithfully for many years, I wouldn't dishonor her like that." Viserys muttered, thinking he'd never do anything to hurt Roanna in such a way. She had given him a healthy son and daughter - he could not ask for anything more special than that out of her.

"I know, Viserys. I just..." Rhaegar rubbed his ring. "I just can't afford to lose her, not after what father tried doing to her whilst we were children. Did you know he tried raping her? In front of me, nevertheless. Like the fact he burnt half of your face off, he was also so terribly cruel to Aly. I don't want to be him, I want to be Aly's Aemon the Dragonknight, not her Aegon the Unworthy." He muttered. Indeed, Aerys did indeed do that Viserys, as he touched his right side, to feel the burn that was still there. Despite popular belief, Targaryens were not fireproof. He knew it, he's felt fire before, hitting his face as he screamed in utter agony at the fact his father had half of his face on a torch . He could see hear his older brother, Jaehaerys, crying something fierce about seeing the sight of burning flesh. The worst part of it was that Viserys couldn't remember what he did wrong back than, which he now just assumed he did nothing out of the ordinary, but he could remember the pain of it all. It was terrible, and unforgettable feeling, and he remembered smelling raw flesh flaking off of his skull.

Reminding him of that made Viserys nod slowly. "I'm glad someone poisoned him, if I'm to be honest with you, Rhaegar." Viserys was glad he was disposed of. Most likely by their mother, given how she was close friends with Doran Martell, another mourner. His wife died, giving birth to their last child, Trystane, which left him a mutual mourner as well. Whatever they had together, Viserys believed it to be a good thing because they both made each other happy for the most part, which Viserys believed his mother needed, given her own life of hardships brought on by Aerys II's wrath.

Rhaegar nodded. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to stop him from bloody effing up your face like that. Aly didn't want to go to court after that, and I couldn't blame her for that."

"I'm sure if you tried stopping him from doing so, he would've had you hung by a cross. He was always paranoid you were going to betray him, you know." Viserys knew his father spent a lot of ranting about Rhaegar betraying him, which was another factor of Rhaegar completely stopping his visits with Alysanne and their offsprings.

Rhaegar scrunched up his face upon hearing this. "I know. Did you know that I planning to call a Great Council on him to remove him from office? I was planning a tourney for it even, at Harrenhal but he ended up dying by some unknown poisoners hand before my plan for riding him off the Iron Throne could take place." He shrugged. "During that time, he had just conquered the Stepstones, but he was too mentally unstable to keep the region, despite the best effort of myself and Lord Quellon. He made me of one of his top lieutenants given that I was the Prince of Dragonstone and I commanded all of the boat levies of Dragonstone at the time. So off, he sent me to the Stepstones to dispose of me, I guess. But what I did learn from that expedition with Quellon Greyjoy is that the Ironborn are tough fookers, and that the Magisters of Essos are more dangerous than I had originally thought so, given that their lesser in technology then us in Westeros. But nevertheless, together they had enough ships to swarm our own fleet, and it was quite impressive in feet, given the amount of ships the Ironborn possessed." He smiled, with just a hint of pride to it. Though Rhaegar's tone of voice sounded rather triumphant, as if he just remembered being there yesterday or something, but whatever the case was, Viserys was just a mere boy back than - when Rhaegar did this amazing feet in Aerys II's name. He remembered Rhaegar coming back though, and the look on his face when he did so - it was the face of pure joy - even though he lost in the end though. "But I managed to escape their wrath by running to Dorne, the nearest safe harbor. Doran and mum were awaiting for me, with smiles and a cup of homemade orange juice." Rhaegar laughed, quite freely about that. "It was one of the best moments of my life, to see my mum happy and without any new bruises from father on her person, and Doran looked happy too. It was a great moment, indeed. I may have lost the battle, but I won my own victory that day."

Viserys knew of this already. But Rhaegar rather liked telling this tale, to whomever would listen to him. He was very proud he helped to capture the Step-stones - even though he was extremely jealous of Lord Robert Baratheon and his much more successful enterprise, unlike his own failed conquest. He knew, because Rhaegar sometimes had a bit of a complaint about this fact, even though he was very willing to help them though. More like Rhaegar mostly likely did not wish to seem like a weak, hurt child in front of his subjects, and more like a respectable man and King in his own right.

Rhaegar stopped to look at a growing rose bush, of which had some delicate, round fully bloomed red roses growing on it's delicate green thorned tips. "These are Aly's favorite flowers, I best go and get her some before we go back." He gave a bit of a smile, as he flickered to one of the gardeners to collect a loaf of flowers for him. Indeed, by the time he was done, Rhaegar snatched them out of the man's hand, though albeit with a gentle thank you to add to it.

"I like this place, Rhaegar. Whatever is it called? I'd like to bring Ro here sometime, she'd love it, as Alysanne has done before her." Personally, this was quite the romantic place, of luxury, with many simple wooden seats placed along the way to the main location, which Rhaegar didn't seem keen on going up too right now. Viserys noted that there was more to this path, given how it still continued to slope upwards.

"I named it Bellerose. I was inspired by Belle Keep in Lys, actually. That keep is a magnificent piece of construction, and had the most wonderful garden I've ever seen, and I've seen lots of gardens. Lady and Lord Baratheon were surely blessed to be given such a keep." King Rhaegar stated, softly, as he took a hold of his flowers, before putting them against his face to smell them.

"That Keep was fookin' fantastic to look at, but I dread to live there during wartime." Viserys thought that Belle Mansion wasn't meant for wartime, given how sincere and awe-inspiring it was. It seemed palpable for comfort only at least to Viserys, of whom scampered around it, looking for something not utterly beautiful, and something meant for practical use to find nothing. It had the simplest of gates, that even an small manned army could break through just as easily. Personally, Viserys found it rather unpractical, and swore to make his own keep both practical in war time and lovely to look at, as a result of their trip to Belle.

"Yep. Why do you think I didn't move my seat there? I don't think for one moment that it could survive an attack on it, from anyone, really." Rhaegar replied. "But If I could, I'd consider it a peaceful summer seat, but that's about it, I suppose dully." He muttered, as they walked back along the path back to King's Landing.


	7. Before Dawn

**Jason Swann**

Jason took a swing of his alcoholic beverage he had on his person, as they returned back to camp with the knocked out red-woman. Jason found her to be pretty, in a dangerous, sort of way, with a head long, blood red hair and a rather robust waistline to add to it. She also wore blood red-colored leather jumper along with large, clearly masculine boots on her feet. Jason also found that she had a scarred, tattered pale face with one eye missing; in a dangerous, kind of unseemly way, Jason found her pretty. As did the other men, that discussed her rather fine arse with chuckles and a general stare at it; it was quite a large thing, on such a short woman. It was no small wonder that she hadn't been raped yet by the men of their company, Jason supposed. Even though a great deal of them were staring at her rather large butt as she lay on the donkey he'd brought mostly for food and what-not. It was better to be safe than sorry in these kinds of places, where one could quickly run out of food due to the nature of the creatures that brooded on these platitudes. It was hard to capture a fierce-footed goat, that roamed through the high rocks with incredible speeds, or the white-tailed foxes, that camouflaged into the background amongst the bitter, white boulders up above their heads. In more ways than one, this place reminded Jason of the Vale, but it lacked the seemly endless fertile supply of food that the Eyre offered; but it sure was mountainous enough to make up for it.

"We're not to rape our guests." Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen, the second-in command of Robert's fine company, stated matter of factly. "Nor the red woman, mind you. I know she has a fine arse and tits we all haven't seen in awhile, but no raping. It's bad business to be seen raping another companies captain, when we could be befriending 'em instead." He stated on the matter, with his usual voice of confidence and bravo towards the other men upon collecting their refugees. They seemed rather disappointed with that, until Jae reminded the lot of em that they could always hire whores instead if they wanted a woman to fuck, or even baring that, going after one of the woman from the Summer Isles or the Patrimony, given that they had some in of them in the company. That caused a many sighs, as they walked back on the long trail back to their current location in the snug little town of Regan, where they had set up camp. Honestly, Jason had his own personal whore in the dazzling lady of Daenys, a whore he had come across in Lys whilst searching for a traveling whore in the all of the whore houses for a whore that was willing to travel with him for a bit of cash; including the ironically named Swann Mansion, where all of the best whores of Lys were supposedly situated.

"The red-woman does have a fine arse." Jason smirked, staring at it. It was a robust, weighty thing on the red-woman, even more so than her own tits, in all earnesty. Her breasts were small and innocuous things, not worthy of much attention.

Robert nodded, indifferently - before attempting to move on, with a look of guilt on his face. Jason knew that Robert had... problems of that nature - and he likely even had some unsaid bastards behind closed doors, given how sometimes he spent his days with a pretty girl when they were out and about, and away from his Lady wife and her brother. Jason didn't know what to think about that, and decided on not caring about it. Whatever his lieges did to woman outside of his marriage was none of his business, even though he was sure that if Lyanna knew about what he did, than she'd destroy him for it. His own Northern mother was a fierce woman - he remembered her well indeed - she had always been a free-spirited, brave woman, and she took nonsense from no-one, his own father included, and his father adored that about her. So much in fact, that he never got remarried after her death from the chills some few years back, when he was only a mere squire under Lord Tarth.

"Yes, yes she does Jason." He muttered. Jason noted his hands were shaking when he took a sip of his wine. The man barely drunk, and when he did, it was because of nightmares. He had something up with him after he conquered Lys, something shattered him beyond belief when he did so, even though he did it with the usual charisma and bravo as he did everything. Something was wrong, Jason knew from Robert's facial expression.

"What's wrong Robert?" Jason asked, mildly curiously. He knew it wasn't any of his business to get in it with his Liege amongst other things, but Robert was his friend. Robert had been the one to Knight him, the one to make him a second son with no inheritance to speak of, a part of something big and tangible, rather than he would've been a part of at home. At home, Jason would've been forced to marry some Marcher girl that his father choice out for him, and had some shitty land befitting a second son and spare heir somewhere in the Marches. When Robert left with his army, of course he followed, Jason had personal interests in it succeeding; getting a name and title of his own merit was much better than being some no-named petty Lord in the Marches.

"I swore to meself I wouldn't bloody whore when Lyanna and Ned weren't around, and that I was done with that whole business, but it's been bloody impossible. We meet all of these beautiful, dazzling woman, and it's been _driving_ me crazy. I swore to myself I would stay loyal to Lyanna, and not to hurt her, because that's not what Ned nor Brandon would've wanted for their sister." He muttered, sounding a bit saddened, as he put his bottle back in his pack, having drunk one sip of it. Personally, Jason knew it to be right; Lady Lyanna was a stubborn, strong-willed woman - and like most common ladies, she was not particularly fond of whores. She would hate him for if she ever found out; and Jason suspected that Lord Robert knew it, which is why he was so dismayed and adamant of his attempts to keep away from whores.

Jason nodded, staring at him. Jason personally liked whores - but he knew that once he was married, there'd be no more public whorring visit to any brothels anytime soon. "That's why I don't ever wish to find meself married to some Marcher woman. You know, my father wanted to marry me off to Brienne the Beauty." He spat on the ground - that woman had been of a colossal size, which neither of her brothers were; Ser Galladon the Gallant was a tall man and Barron was taller than most of his age, but that woman was unsettling large; she was nearly as tall as Robert, and overlooked himself in terms of height, which was uncomforting. Although, he did remember Ser Galladon biting off a man's head about hurting his sister; and damn, was Ser Galladon a great fighter; almost as great as Ser Jaime Lannister or even Ser Arthur Dayne in terms of fighting. He'd know, because he got defeated more than once by Ser Galladon with his valyrian blade of _Constance_ during his time squiring under Lord Tarth. He himself, unfortunately had never been friends with the Lord-Heir of Tarth - even though his older brother was. His older brother got everything, including the greatest friends, to Jason's jealousy even though he was there at the time.

Robert laughed blithely, as they continued on through the sandy dunes of the walkway, which seemly went forever in Jason's eyes. They had been marching at a brisk past to get back to their encampment before night fell, and only bad thing happened when dusk fell; or so Robert claimed as they marched forward with their other none-harmed prisoners tied to ropes behind them. Jaehaerys was instructing the men to keep up, and to drag those on the rope along with them. They did so, and with long whips, to keep them going further and faster, even despite some of them falling onto the ground, which resulted in a beating by one of the other men. Yes, they weren't about to rape the woman, but they weren't going to play fair with the others; that was for sure; she was fortunate to be a commander, not one of those lackies of her's. For that reason, and only for that, would nothing bad come to her. They weren't barbarians anyways; they had some sensibilities when it came to those of command.

The mountain, and hills above their heads were extensive and full of unexpected detours that might lead to one's death at either the hands of a sharp edge or the hands of a hidden band of barbarians or the likes that could swoop down from the hills above like a ghost. There were so many trails, and so many shortcuts, that one could get very lost in this place very quickly and not even realize it for one moment. Indeed, they even had a tour guide with them - a tall, ginger-haired naive of these parts, his name was Hugo, after Hugo the Hill, the first king of Andalos. He himself didn't claim descend from the King, but he did claim that honor belonged to House Arryn of the Vale, not to any of them here left in Andalos, or if they did, it was through a bastard branch of it rather than the true lawful ideal.

"So your like the Bronze Bitch of the Vale?" Robert asked the guide. The Bronze Bitch was a bastard daughter of Lord Royce, and she was a stubborn one, or so Robert claimed. He claimed to visit her every once in awhile to visit Elbert Arryn in the Vale, considering she was a guide there. Jason wouldn't know, considering he'd never been to the Vale in his life, most unfortunately. Robert claimed that the girl despite being only five-and-ten years of age was a right riotous little thing and that she made him laugh despite only being a guide of the Vale; he believed that Elbert set her up for the position as guide mostly for the laughs, actually. "The Bronze Bitch does things similarly to you - guiding people, mostly to keep away from those clan bastards and other unseemly things." He laughed once again. "And also to keep people on the right track, of course." One could lost in the Vale without a guide too.

Hugo shrugged. "Oh, I guess so." Hugo of the Hills was a large man, but not as large as Robert - he stood at nearly a head shorter than the Lord of Lys, and he also wore the most basic of clothing, like a peasant. He didn't wear any House Insignias on his person, but he did wear a ruby ring - the only sign of wealth that Jason could see on him. He also wore a plain, quilted blue-colored shirt with some leather pants and a pair of large, lumbering mountainous shoes to add on it. "We don't have 'clan' bastards, but we have a network of bandits in these parts. They're quite a danger, and that's one reason why Pentoshi hasn't built anything on these ridges yet - it's because their construction workers would be likely be killed before even got to the top of one the immense hills." He put his emerald hand behind his large, robust neck before nervously rubbing it awkwardly.

"The Arryns would think of this place as home sweet home if they ever came through here, that is." Jason smirked. It was quite remarkably what Jason thought of the Vale, given how hilly both places were. Jason also wondered where Hugo's holy hill was - if they could find it, that was. It seemed very unlikely, given that any numbers of these hills could be where Hugo saw the Seven coming from out of the Hills, at least according to the Faith. Jason was but a mild worshiper of the Seven, but not very much given that his own father had never been very interested in the complexities of the Seven, given that he was much more interested in fighting, warring, and other military activities than that. Of course they had a Septa to teach them the ways of the Seven Aspects of the One God, and other things, but nothing very complex. Indeed, their mother worshiped trees of all things - his father had never been very devout to the Seven, as it was. "Where's Hugo's hill, Hugo?" Jason wondered, thinking about it.

"A way from here." Hugo replied. "It's very obvious where it is, given that on the mount there's a rather large sept sitting on it's top; and it's the safest route to get to in all of Andalos, given that's it's a path guarded zealously by the Poor Fellows and their likes. I need not of even Billy here to get there, considering it's a path of giving freely to oneself and thus I require no spare goods as a result of this.." He patted the backside of his travelling small horse with a dashing smile. The horse had food and other supplies stacked on top of it thick saddle, like most of their own horses. They had made plans to camp before returning back to the hub, but Robert deemed it unnecessary and that they needed to get back to their safe location before dawn, mostly to prevent themselves from getting raided or attacked by bandits or on the off-chance, some of the men that they let run away decide to come back around and re-attack them on the Hills. They had quite a few men over them, despite still presumably still being dispersed in the area. If they got their act together, and attacked them before dawn without them suspecting a thing, than they'd be finished as far as it went.

"You have Poor Fellows, in Braavos of all things?" Robert heard this with wild-eyes. "Best we don't tell the burnt up ashes of King Maegor 'bout this development, or else his bones might suddenly rise up and ride his dragon once again to burn them to rumble." He was joking, but the subtext was there. Maegor I had banished them from the land with his Valyrian sword of Blackfyre and his dragon of Ballerion - and that he'd be wroth to find out that his sentencing had been carried out in other lands. Jason wondered if the High Septon knew about this instruction of the ancient, but banished order of Westeros, but did nothing about it... _If so, than King Rhaegar can find himself some wildfire & a spite to put the current High Septon on before prying him on it for breaking the law of the land. _Jason thought, knowing his history well enough to know what would happen to the poor man if that were true indeed. But then again, this was a different country, so it was possible that the High Septon would get a free pass, if not very reluctantly and possibly with some level of scrutiny involved there.

Jason laughed, regardless. The man responded with a gentle sigh, "I think we need to get moving before we run into marauders or unseemly creatures, like cougars, of whom are known to stray here from the mountains." He didn't say another word about Poor or any other of the Fellows when Robert made that joke about Maegor I the Cruel being unhappy about this development though. Jason had other questions to ask him in regards to the Poor Fellows, but somehow he doubted the poor man knew very much. One of Jason's own grand-sires was a Warrior Son, giving up his title as Lord of Stonehelm to join the Order against Maegor I, to be burnt to cinders whilst fighting alongside Ser Lyle Bracken, of whom survived the fighting though, until he was killed in King's Landing against Maegor I and his six champions.

"Yes, indeed. We do." Robert replied, with a smirk.

Obara Sand

The fresh scent of peppermint came overhead, as Obara Sand and her siblings marched through the streets of Lys, their arms ready and in plain sight for all those miscreants that dwelt on the low-hanging fruits of the city to see. Obara had personally requested this career opportunity, given that she wasn't just going to sit inside all day whilst her father became liken to their uncle, Doran - slow-acting and patient, so unlike the fearsome man that Oberyn once was. But Obara paid no attention to that, as she marched, donning the raven-gold armor of House Baratheon on her person; along with a long spear in hand. Following her, were her sister's Nymeria, with her beauty that Obara could never hope to achieve -and Morgan Sand, her uncle's pet In everything besides for Oberyn's own flirtatious nature. Tyene refused to join with them, rather refereeing her time flirting with Maric Baratheon than enjoying her time hunting down criminals and the likes - and besides, Obara thought that Tyene was too much of a septa to wish to dirty her delicate little hands like Obara and the others did.

"So, Father says that we're to find evidence on a whorish rebellion." Obara smirked. She knew her way around brothels, given that her own mother was a whore from Old Town, when her father was attending his sister's marriage wedding ceremony. He said that the wedding was better though, and that he had just gotten her mother as a celebratory fuck rather than anything else. Elia had reportedly been unhappy about that little decision of his, and had politely asked him to stop whoring in front of their guests, which he ignored Obara guessed, given how she, Elia her namesake, and Nymphi were conceived. "Or just anything about the 'ladies' in question. I'm game for storming them, if you are." She stared at their first location - the grand hall of the Black Swann - or Johanna's place, given that was her true name - it stood towering over the four of them, with the Black and white insigma of House Swann emboldened on the top sculpture of it; and not to mention, the place was shaped like a white Swan. It was no wonder why that piss boy Jason Swann loved this place, Obara thought dully, It was a legacy to that Lordlings family.

"No, Obara." Nymphi spoke, coldly. "It's much too large to be stormed. We only have a limited men, given that most of them are off fighting the underworld gangs, like the girlish Bell's from their master Lord Bellamy the Despicable, or even the all-woman gang of Stormer, brought to you by Lord Guy Desrosiers." She had listed a few of them, but their were more, and if not properly contained they would destroy entire blocks of lands with some gunpowder brought to them by the Yi-Tsh exports they sometimes raided for supplies. They had enough to blow a proper bomb - something that worried Obara, and Lady Lyanna, given her reaction to the news. It went as well as one would expect, with Lyanna shouting angrily at those that protected the exports of Yi-Tish goods for incompetence and negligence of duty, and giving them a nice shot of their prison of which was getting a remodeling done to it, considering it had been nothing prior. "That's just to name a few. If we were to raid them now, they'd know it and come after us, which is very bad Obara. We can't afford to be careless, for ours and Lady Lyanna's sakes." She responded coolly. Nymphi may have been prettier than her, but she had always been as cool as a whip on the odd occasion, like now.

"Shush, Nymphi." She snapped. They weren't in private - but than again, when have they ever been in secret? Everyone in this infernal of a city had spies, in every single little corner of everywhere. It was impossible to have an conversation with anyone without being spied upon by some miscreant of a fellow, paid by some powerful lord that wanted insight into the court of the She-Wolf and her cubs. Personally, Obara felt nothing for the little Lordlings. Maric was a pretty boy with a knack for flirting and whoring with basically every girl he saw, Baldric loved the thrill of the fight and basically lived for fighting, Lyonel was the devout one, and Jon, well Jon was something entirely different from the rest of his siblings. He wasn't a womanizer. but that didn't mean he had some charm in him - he was very charming, or so Tyene reported, in her gossipy voice, and he didn't lack in courage like Baldric, but neither was he some kind of sept like Lyonel was... He was something entirely different from the rest of them. "Being careless would be letting these bloody whores knowing of our plan. They can poison you with a little bottle of Lysesian poison - like they've tried doing countless times to Lyanna Stark." She hissed, quieting her voice when staring at her sister. They've attempted doing the old Dornish trick they did - but with acid instead of snakes, which was also rather dangerous . Lyanna survived the attack on her person, given that she wasn't the one whom pressed open her own door to discover the trick underneath though. Some poor chap was burnt up outside of her quarters - and they didn't even know whom it was, that's the thing about it.

"Yes, sister." Nymphi sighed, staring around her. "Let us go inside though. Lady Belle is inside, and she's waiting for us." Lady Belle was the key to their entire operation - and she may be willing to talk about this shadowy rebellion that had Lyanna all paranoid about her safety - and for a good reason, the whores here in Lys were well-known for being poisoners, as well as seducers amongst other things, but that was a different story - and they had some of the most dangerous poisons in the world here in Lys that they could use to kill Lyanna or any of her offspring at a drop of a hat. If it were up to Obara, than all hell would let loose upon the denizens of this brothel, but alas their mutual father said that she wasn't allowed to do that. Obara decided to letting someone else do the talking that was more diplomatic than she - a hulking girl, was.

"I'm not doing the talking. That's Morgan's job." She stared at her half-brother. He was a smooth talking handsome young man at about her age - of whom wore silks instead of armor, and whom's weapon was his insipid tongue than a weapon in hand. He had chestnut-colored hair that fell gently to his shoulders and deep sky-blue eyes to add on it to his appearance of handsomeness in the eyes of many woman. His mother had been a lady Hightower from a cousining branch to the main one, which was the cause of much scandal, given that he did indeed fuck a Hightower during his sister's own wedding, before meeting Obara's own mother in Old Town; and because of that, Doran took care of much of Morgan's childhood - which resulted in a product so far from her hot-headed cousin Arianne that she herself could hardly believe it when she first saw him walking with Oberyn. He was so patient and cunning in his ways that it took her breath away almost;, and her own father's apparently when he first saw his only son for the first time in nearly seventeen years.

"I will gladly talk to the dear sweet little woman for you, younger sister. Woman do love to hear me talk to them, or so I hear from all me bed-mates I've collected over the years." He winked his blue eyes at her, before smugly walking into the brothel like he owned the place or something. Obara escorted him inside, her spear ready. She ignored all of the lewdly dressed silver-haired woman - and continued in. Of course there was fuckery going on, around her, but Obara could ignore it. She spent much of her childhood in a brothel - she wasn't about to let them get to her now, of all things.

As they walked inside, Morgan kept on looking at all the lewd things in the brothel and laughing besides himself when he saw it. Obara felt a unneeded sense of disgust at the prospect, but alas, she continued walking forwards, into the bar.

"Get on with it, Morgan." Nymphi huffed to Morgan, of whom kept on procrastinating to the naked woman on the sidelines, of whom were playing with other men with their large titties and crafty smiles. Morgan gave them a thumbs up before continuing down the lane to the main exhibit of the day; which was the pole dancer presumably, given the large crowd surrounding the large podium filled with three nudly cladded woman of whom were smiling seductively and shaking their titties around like rolling balls with their gentle hands; Belle was on the centre pole however - and almost naked saved two little pink elephants on her nipples and some flannel pink underwear. That was the exact to her; she also was a short thing, with bright blue hair that fell behind her back like a mermaid. Nymphi looked a bit angry as usual, Obara felt a sense of nothingness however. Her own mother did things very similarly when she was out whoring for men in the whore house. This was nothing special at all for Obara, indeed.

They got through the crowd fairly easily, given how two of them had spears. They even dispersed it somewhat, with people giving them looks, which was yet again, nothing special.

"Allo my beautiful pole-woman!" He was smiling cheekily, down below their podium. "If I didn't have a lovely lady meself, I'd invite you all back to our lovely fort with me and me sisters, but alas my current Lady would greatly disapprove of it. So alas, I'm rather monogamous for now.." Actually, unlike their father Morgan had only a sexual attraction towards woman, and wished for a monogamous married relationship, unlike some of them. He was quite different from them from how he behaved, to how he spoke, indeed, his entire behavior was well-cultured, and to Obara personally, he was almost fire-proof purely in the most physiological sense, almost as though he could never be quite hurt by it even if he sat in the middle of a boiling pit of fire. She was sure that he'd end up leaving it as a Targaryen might - unharmed and pressed to continue in whatever he was doing prior.

"Oh, you're the Sand-Snakes, I assume I've heard of you before, tehehe." Belle's voice sounded beautiful and melodic, like the sound of the Old Town's chantry ringing for the hours of the day. "I wasn't expecting you, so soon. Mind if I have something for my sweet lil time-y?" Her wide blue eyes stared at them, almost pleadingly, as she went to a crouch, her breasts pressed again one of the bar.

"Yes." Morgan took off one of his emerald rings, before gently setting it in her hands. She smiled, before putting on one of her gentle fingers and was admiring the ring so awe-stricken that Obara found her facial expression to be rather cute in a way, before she hopped off stage unexpectedly, and somehow landed into Morgan's arms. Morgan looked like he hadn't been expecting that from a whore of all things; his hands were placed against her soft, buttox. Usually, a man would look honored and even impressed by such an act from a whore, but Morgan looked positively terrified by it. His face color turned from a paisley white color to a bright red in a matter of seconds.

"Do you not have any balls, Morgan?" Obara wondered, staring at him in almost a look of disbelief.

"How else am I supposed to respond, Obara? She jumped straight at me, like a fookin' mad woman." He snarled at Obara, before gently setting Belle down onto the ground like a proper gentlemen, but not before she kissed right in the sucker. He didn't protest against, but neither did he seem pleased about it, as he was the one to pull away from her gently a second later. Her red lipstick colored his lips red though, unfortunately, but he didn't seem to mind it too terribly much, She was still smiling largely, as she held his hand, and gave him a winking, flirty look. He didn't take the bait. Obara thought that he had the tiniest balls she'd ever see on a man, to refuse a whore when she was clearly asking for it, in a brothel nevertheless. Only a septon or a fool would refuse a willing whore that clearly wanted to fuck him of all things, Obara supposed.

"Oh, did you not like me doing that, Lord?" Morgan sighed besides himself, as he brought her out, his hand placed on her buttox, as if to give the allusion of them doing something else, otherwise it would be unbelievably suspicious if they didn't do otherwise. They'd need to talk, given that Belle was willing too.

"Of course I did." He was lying of course, but he was such a flawless liar. One such as herself would never know that he was lying, if he didn't know him of course. "It got me into me wet for you, Belle. But regardless, let's talk. You know this whore personally that's responsible for the 'shadow' rebellion?" He asked, staring at her as he covered her with his jacket, like a proper nobleman would to a Lady. He also was holding her shoulders, as he escorted her by holding her hips. His blue eyes looked extremely strong-willed, as he held her in his arms.

"Oh.. her... She was... once the concubine of the past Prince of Lys before he was murdered, of course, and she was his favourite out of all of his concubines, before ye arrived of coursa. Her name was Lynesse Hightower, and she was so powerfully influenced during the Prince's reign, that she even made the Prince's legal wife fear her. Indeed, she had been hoping to overrule him ... in order to become the next Black Swann of Lys, or in this case, the Black Tower as she's requested to be called." She sounded like a child, as she whispered to him underneath his thick, long jacket. Obara didn't know if she was feeding them lies - which was possible, given that she had just told them this information easily and without protest. But maybe, the gold convinced her to tell them though- that was a sudden possibility as well.

"Ah." He winked at her, gently. That didn't take much effort on his part, did it? Obara though. "I swear on my honor, I wouldn't let anything happen to you because of this. Please, come back with me to the estate. I can protect you there." He responded softly.

"But.. but she'll find me. You have no idea how influential she is here. She's the Queen of Whores, after-all" Her eyes widened once again. "But I'll join ye, because ye are my best opportunity to be rid of Lynesse's fifth off my chest. Even if I'm dead in the mornin', I suppose I told someone. She made me - amongst othah's swear an oath of eternal loyalty to her but Imma not to sure bout other 'o. But anyhow, her top lieutenant and bedwarmer is one of the old Magister-Prince's brothers . That's all I know about her activities thus far; I know because of me treachery to her that she'll cut off mee wittle lady bits and feed them to her dogs if she knew I spoke to ye. I'll join yee, but please, please, don't let her take her and do all of those terrible things to me." Her blue eyes widened, with unsaid fear in them, as she whispered in the gentle ear of her brother. Of course Obara could hear it, but that only served to make her nervous as she stared at the full market place in front of them. They were also being stared at by the brightly-colored small-folk of whom dwell here, in large crowds, making it feel as though Obara was being suffocated by their presents. There had never been as much people here than in Dorne - In Dorne, there were a limited populous, but nothing this utterly nauseating and suffocating, as though she was being held behind one door as hundreds were streaming past her through one little door. It was truly insufferable, but Obara wouldn't complain though.

He whispered something else to her and than gave her a quick kiss on one of her soft, pink-painted cheeks. In all honesty, the girl was painted a blue coloring, on her hands and gentle white cheeks. She also had some gentle acne sprayed across her cheeks, making her seem so very young and even more innocent, given that she was a whore of all things. Her parents must've been truly impoverished to make her a whore - or they must be dead, and she an orphan. She'd heard and seen several stories of little girls being forced to sell their young bodies in order to keep their families out of complete impoverishment, or them being simple orphans with nothing to protect them beyond the whore-houses, which provided a level of protection against the outside elements. Or they were simply born into the ropes of being whores through their mothers - that's also possible as well, but it was much more common for them being born outside of the whoring business rather than otherwise.

Obara agreed that they needed to keep the little one safe from being murdered by Lynesse and her gang of influence over the sexual island - afterall, Lys was well known for being the place of sex and luxury - but also a place of deceit, and back-stabbing, that kind of uncivil, barbaric behavior the rest of em in charge of the island were attempting to curtail that barbaric practices from within it, but it was hard and would take some time for it to happen. The civilians were used to it, indeed and even encouraged such barbarism to continue for their own self-gain. It was honestly disgusting, the things her father told her. She was glad that those uncivilized, illicit Magisters (or Princes) were hung up in those shimmering silver gibbets across the city, for all of those unscrupulous people in the underbelly of the beast to see if they so wished to challenge the might of Lyanna's power in this realm. They only had them to speak too, if they so wished to see the fate of those that choice to deny the true ruler of Lys there dues.

"We'll protect you, no matter what." He responded, softly. He took her one her gentle hands, before bringing it up his lips to kiss it, like a traditional nobleman would do to his Lady wife or love interest of sorts.

She nodded, as they moved through the lines of people. It seemed never-ending, before Obara saw it. Woman dressed in loose fabric - with knives in hand, coming towards them, with wicked smiles on their faces. Everyone seem to leave the grounds, besides for them though.

"Get out of the way, Morgan, less you find yourself hurt by these hoes in front of us. Go run off and bring Belle to safety in the estate." She put her pike into position, and her sister brought out her morning star. The look on their faces were fearsome, despite wearing loose, whore's clothes. One of them even had a whip on her person, as she approached them, first and foremost. She had bright cheery pink colored hair in pigtails, and poppy pink colored big lips. Obara had some poison on her even, that her sister, Tyene, had made her just in case of a situation like this; it was made from some of the Dornish snakes that she and her father had milked when they were in Dorne. Indeed, Obara would use it right now, but she was terribly afraid that one of the woman could use it against her if they knew about it being there; or, the more likely chance, than they poisoned their own blades with Lysesian poisons.

She lift her pike up into a defense posture. "We're not giving you the girl. Get, before I Obara Sand, decide to destroy you, which myself and my sister will do without mercy." She stared directly at them.

The woman in the middle smirked. "I'm not afraid of you, little woman. You are outnumbered two to one here, little tiny Sandsnake. We've heard of you and your sister's fearsome reputation, but It unfortunately, shall not save you here." She didn't say give them the girl, like some kind of cliche, at least not yet, Obara thought staunchly as she and her brother disappeared from site under the basically unlimited crowd. The way to the castle was not too far, but Obara worried that their might be more of these assassins still out there in the vast, unsolvable crowd. But she trusted Morgan to bring her back safely to the castle gates; he may have been a wimp and a coward with the blade, but he was no slouch when it came to being street-smart and as clever as one could be when it came down to it. He could disappear and not be seen again in a bustling crowd of people, if he so choice too. It was a beneficial ability that Obara did not have at this very moment, even though she could think of several ways such an ability could be utilized eff right now, as she was surrounded by these three clashed woman.

"All I see are three of you." Nymphi responded coolly. "If you've heard of our repute, than you should bring more than just bluster." She responded with one of her very rare smiles, which could make men wet themselves with unsaid desires, due to her overwhelming beauty.

At that, the woman rushed them with their weaponry. Obara raised her long spear, and attacked them in return. She cut off two of their heads with her long sword - including the middle woman's head, and her sister attacked the two others. Obara couldn't see Morgan and the blue-haired girl now, which meant they had hopefully disappeared. She'd fight them as long as she could, to keep them from being captured... if they weren't already though.

Her sister used her morning star to smack the third whore in her face, which caused her to collapse upon it hitting her. She then proceeded to beat her head until it cracked like a watermelon would. The blood and bile from the woman's crushed skull went everywhere, including on Obara's sandals. Obara didn't care though- it would send a message towards her enemies to follow. She was also sure there were more to come of those assassin woman to come, given that they did say there was more than the three of them; even though Obara was sure that she was just bluffing, even though she didn't appear that way to Obara.

Mary

"So, your the infamous Bloody Mary. I've heard 'bout you. Your a cold-blooded murderess, you are; you burned entire towns down during conflicts with other groups, as well as skinning those that remained alive." Said one of Robert's lackies, as she sat strapped on the ground of their tent after they brought her there. She had woken up moments soon, but being surrounded by these ugly men made her want to make someone an eunuch. In fact, her first sexual experience had ended in her eunching them, for the fact that they had raped her. Her father had been dead, ages ago, of some cold; so a girl had to do what a girl must do in order to defend her feminine parts; indeed, she grew so bloody in her conquests, that she herself heard a rumor that she dyed her hair with the blood her fallen victims. She smiled, and even revelled at such a rumor - it served to make her repute fearsome.

She smirked. "Yer not the first man to say that, and nor are you the first man to feel my steel on yer balls, and that ain't a warnin' sweetie pea. My dog, Rosie, loves to eat dicks as a past time. I shite you not." She responded, with a grin on her face. Rosie was the name of her first victim that did her act of running away like a good girl and properly for that- after that her, Alfred and Rikard, her two top dogs came bursting forward - both of them were named after men that gave her a good fight, as they ran nude from her dogs, with looks of fear on their faces. She chuckled, remembering them screaming as they tried outrunning her dogs. Some escaped, but most did not. They were hunted down by her dogs - and if they gave her a good fight, she'd make sure that their deaths were painless and that the next breed of male pups from her animal would be named after him - but if they didn't, than she'd skin them alive and make good use of their skin. Sometimes, she wore it as armor, but she realized that it simply wasn't good enough as armor, and decided on simply making them treasures in her room to look at every once in awhile.

"Your a fucked up woman. How did you not did not die yet in this world?" The man in front of her was a ugly, fat, short man with a receding hairline. He had some black teeth in there, along with some pulled out teeth, showing his dirty, pink gums underneath his fat, double-chinned little face. She was quite unimpressed with him being the one to care for her, of all people, but it was better than nothing. At least they were giving her some attention, even if they were the lowest of low denominator of people's. They didn't wear a Westeros House Insigma, they were that important in Robert's group of Brave Adventurers. Which meant to say, not important in the slightest and thus none of her concerns. She was dealing with a grunt, not with the real deals, like she wanted. She was an important figure, afterall. Or so she thought.

"Because people fear me. I once got gang-raped by a group of men thinkin' I was like some brood, and they even cut off my eye in the process." She lifted up her raven-colored bandanna covering her missing eye to show it to the man, of whom was gaping his ugly, rotten teeth at it, as if he hadn't such a thing in all of his years of living. "but they soon learned the errors of their ways, because afterwards, I swore revenge against them. In the middle of the night, I went into each of their rooms, cutting off their dicks one by one.. as a treat for my dogs, of course. But not before brutally murdering them, with my own handmade torture devices. I use to be the torturer of the group, you see." She smiled one of her blood-chilling smiles at the man. It would be of no use hiding her true self from someone whom knew of her repute, now would it? She may play nice for her group and others to see, but the truth of her nature was much more gruesome and heartless than anyone would ever expect out of a woman of all things. She'd do what she did in private, not around for others to see and beheld in terror, much less they kill her for her actions.

The man looked baffled, as he stepped back from her in a sort of haze. She felt a sense of gratitude, at scaring people this way. It earned her a very gruesome repute though, and nobody dared raped or touched her now. Not without her permission - and she had a paramount already - she loved pretty, nobleman, so she chose to torture one into being her Reek creature, and her lover for life, given that his entire life was now her's. His name had been Roderick Westerling before being her little Reek toy - and he had been a delicious moral, as she devoured him whole in a matter of a year or so, given that he lacked the will to keep on resisting her lovely charms. It was a terrible shame though, that the Maester declared her infertile - she would've liked to have a son from him, or something, to keep as a memo to her time with him, but that was not all the case.

She stared at her wound, which was cleansed and bandaged with a white, soft bandage on her side, before sighing softly; she's thank R'llor for saving her from certain death though .She'd also settle for laying on the soft, white blanket, as she awaited for Robert Baratheon, nearby the soft flames she was neabry as someone was cooking some cool fish on one of the tethers above the flames. Nobody was talking to her, but she didn't mind. She liked the sounds of silence than people talking to her anyhow.

The sky was dark above her head, and the flames of the fire were fearsome, uncontrollable forces. She had always been fascinated by flames, all throughout her life - and she found it even more thrilling to think about flesh being burnt off as someone cried in terror. She'd take secret pleasures by those thoughts, though she wouldn't act on them - not after she was out of this rather large encampment and until she was with her own group of people, and inexplicably, free with Reek and her entire gang. Though, even around them she had to hold herself back, less they leave her to go someone else's group.


	8. A Dance of Wills and Salt

Theon Greyjoy,

"Our bloody King is a coward, my Lord. I am a veteran of Rhaegar's failed conquest of the Stepping Stones, and I saw first hand how he was a coward. Back than, I was nothing but one of Lord Quellon's proud serving shipman with me own crew and all , but I did him on his battlements of Lorelai's bay, running away like a chicken with no legs from the docking bay. He didn't stop to say hello to anyone, he just hopped aboard his ship _Dark Sister_ and headed to Dorne immediately, just as he got the letter Lord Quellon had been killed in action and that the bay was surrounded with Essosi folks battleships. He left behind many dead on the very day he fled, and yet he still think of it's a victory. I don't understand how he could just get up and leave when we needed him the most, to lead us as Lord Quellion would've wanted the Prince of Dragonstone to have done in his place - but no that's not what he did, his actions that day were of a bloody coward, more or less, given that he took his entire fleet with him when he left." Lord Botley stared at him, before taking a bottle of whiskey off of his desk and drinking It whole, even as the deep, red licker ran down his blonde-coloured haired chin. He himself had heard stories of Lord Botley saving and caring for survivors that had been dragged of their ships by the catapults on the other ships. It was said he swam in the waves to save them himself, to keep them from dying terrible deaths under the waves, despite our mutual religion saying drowning was a good thing considering _what is dead may never die..._ but Theon wouldn't give him too much shite over it, what he did that day was noble and braver than what most of the Seven Kingdoms thought about the Iron Isles.

Theon nodded, before taking a cup of fresh and clean spring water, before drinking it. Theon had never been much of a drinker, far preferring a clean mind to think about his actions rather than a wine-sodden one - a very practical mindset, in his opinion at least, though he did often drink from time to time or whenever he saw his father. Than he'd far prefer to be drunk than to face him, and his disapproval over everything he did. Or the fact he looked like Euron reborn to his Lordly father, but instead of having one blue eyes, he had one brown eye. It was a difference his father practically didn't see... "Cowardness runs deep in the Targaryens. They've always been scared of dying to the Sea God's wrath, even if it was their destiny to do so, Botley. It's why they are so scared when we invade their Greenland's rich coasts, because they know we can win on the blessed seas of our ancestors, whilst they can only survive on their petty little Greenlands - although, I'm not my uncle Aerion about this." He shrugged, sitting on his black leathered chair, staring at Botley whilst he collected himself more water from the clear cylinder he had placed on the coffee table's grey coloured placemat.

"Indeed, mate." He joined Theon on the couch's surface. He was a large, lanky man with almost golden-blonde hair and deep sea-green eyes to add to it. "Cowardness. Yet now we have to fight a similar war here, against the same foes as during Prince Rhaegar's failed conquest. I wonder if King Rhaegar will get his arse off his Iron Throne to go save us? Or if he'll just be content to let us all die here, like he did previously, in preference for fucking his unholy sister-wife." Theon didn't know if he would indeed help he, and didn't care very much, honestly. He simply continued drinking from his cup, and thought about his nuncle Euron. He remembered defeating the man by some blessed miracle of the Sea God; he had never been a devout Seven worshipper as far as it went, even though his Lannister wife had insisted they married in the light of the Seven, even though he'd been very reluctant to do so. He didn't even want or wish to raise his children under the Seven - he told his wife this when she was first pregnant with Jon, but he doubted she listened to him, even when he brought up what happened to the last Lannister Queen of the Iron Isles, and what happened there, what happened to her when her own second son let her be murdered and mutilated by his own mates. Or what happened to the first son of Lelia Lannister and Hagon II the Haggler, of whom was overthrown as he was mutated and mutilated like his own mother Lelia was before him. Honestly, he himself was no believer in the Seven, despite living with the Lannisters for some years in his youth as their prisoner- they had to see it, the Ironborn did - he'd convince them of it surely, that he wasn't going to be Harmond the Haggler nor Harmond the Handsome. He would live by there rules, and he'd make sure his children did as well.

He sighed "I would rather die a good man than the bad man my nuncle Euron Crow-Eyed _cursed_ me as upon his death bed." He responded, simply. His nuncle hadn't died by his own hands, but his nuncle Euron had been killed by Thundering Tom, his first mate aboard his flagship of _Dark Star_. He was a strong, robust man of Summer Isles origin, although he had been expelled from the Isles a few years ago, and landed in the Fair Isles to help the Fairmen. That House in particular didn't like him during his stay with the Lannister's of Casterly Rock, and often spat at him when they came to visit from their islands. Indeed, they even said that Good Quellon, his own gramps, wasn't so good as to not raid them for the gold needed for his own resurrection of modern values into their culture. At that, he was tempted to sight in despair at that - how was he supposed to do it if not even he, the _Good_ Greyjoy, could resist not invading the Westerlands? That would make him a hypocrite, but that wasn't his goal for the Iron Isles as it was - he didn't know what he'd do actually, when he became Lord of Pyke and Lord Paramount of the Iron Isles - would he really risk pissing of an already angry Aerion with new laws and reforms? That man had been furious at him for marrying his current wife In the fashion he did, and thought he took faith with the Seven of all religions... It was actually rather tiresome to think about what Aerion would do when he become Lord of Pyke - though, he did like Victorian in a fashion, given that he was the only one to thank him for ridding the world of Euron Greyjoy the Kinslayer.

"Just because your missing an eye doesn't make you Euron Crow-eye." Not everyone thought this of course,- his own father included, of whom showed very limited sympathy for the fact he nearly died from being attacked by his genocidal younger brother Euron, when he brought back the ship of mutes back to Pyke. He even lost a limb to the Crow-Eye's valyrian steels word of Squid. There was also another valyrian sword though left from the Crow's Eye's ship, but it was hidden away, in a very secret location which he himself knew about, less someone blabs about it to another. His father also told him that he should get a Salt Wife too, for those long journeys away from his true lawful wife, which prompted Theon to question if his father did similar things towards his own mother when he went reavings, which had resulted In Balon being silent as he stormed off back to his own ship.

"It helps that both of my eyes are brown, really." He muttered, rolling his one eye. "But though, really. My nuncle did curse me though. Did I tell how he died? Me first mate, Thundering Tom saved me from what I could attest to be certain doom, as I was bleedin' out on my left stump that the man had cut off during our duel, and valiantly saved me from the crow's eyes wrath by stabbin' 'em in the back from above the reaper with another Valyrian sword he had found scattered about on one of the corpses of our slayed foes" He had asked how Thunderous Tom had obtained such a weapon in such a timely fashion, and when he needed it the most amongst other things, and his response was that he found on the belt-buckle of one the silent men. Theon wondered what his nuncle was thinking in the name of the Sea God to place Valyrian steel in a location where someone could easily steal it from him. "just as the man had jumped on top of me, and I was quickly losing consciousness due to losing a great deal of blood due to the injuries I was given and all.. Though, I can still remember that malice smile of his; he bent down whispered something In me ear 'bout raping me to death, as took one of his large, rough hands and messed with my hair - of which he said I had hair like a girl's, so soft and smooth, so unnatural for a man's. I can remember his foul breath over me, as he whispered In my ear - it smelled distinctively of somethin' unwashed and abided. I can remember him undoing his pants... zip, zip, zip... and than I can remember blood and gore rushing all over me, as he was stabbed straight in the gutter" Theon often imaged that scenario playing out, and felt a level of disgust towards his nuncle that he couldn't quite place. "When he was dying besides me on those blood stained decks, his last words to me were to curse me as a future kinslayer in the name of our Sea God, though I did no killin' of any me own blood that day." He wondered what kind of a man would slay another of the same blood? Why? The Gods do not look kindly upon Kinslayers, and he hoped that they caused hell on Euron Greyjoy's twisted soul, whenever he was.

Botley nodded. Usually, he'd tell his wife these things privately whilst they fucked - but she wasn't here, though he was planning on going to Lannisport to collect her, and bring her here to Lys. He knew she'd love it too - she was always the ever-so adventurous, bold kind of woman, and he just adored those things about her, considering she was more of his family than his true family was. Though, his father would never see this, because all he saw was a sweet, docile Lannister girl he brought into their family without 'care' or 'consideration'- when she was as bold and brash as Asha, and had such spirit, such energy, even despite being a mother of all things - she drove him crazy sometimes with her high energy attitude but he loved her all the same. So, Boltley would have to do - for now at least.

"Don't trust the words of Euron, they are surely poisoned, Theon. Victorian will tell you the exact same thing - do not trust his words, or his gifts. They are all poisoned, as surely as he is." Of course Botley would say that. He nodded indifferently, before standing up to look out the little window nearby to stare out into the vast open sea from his closed hatch. Euron also said that he had killed several of his brothers too, fully admitted it before they started fighting - he said he killed his older brother with grayscale... assaulted another... and wished for his own father's head on a silver plate, to be bronzed for exiling him from Pyke, though he said that his own head would make a nice place on his shelf of skulls as a replacement for his own father's. Theon didn't know how he would've won the duel, but was gladdened that somehow, that he did somehow, even though it did come at a sharp prize though.

"I know. I wouldn't trust the words of someone already cursed with the Gods." He whispered, nonchalantly, his one brown eye staring at his valyrian steel-sword he had brought out to admire. It was made for one hand fortunately so his right dominant hand could hold it, and strangely, Theon found it was most beautiful sword he had ever seen, with grey and blue curved blade - he touched it's sharp tip, drawing some deep red blood from his finger as he did so. He remember his nuncle slicing off his left hand with this very blade, and him slumping to the ground as blood poured out of the wound, Theon could see the mute men around him watching him, with their unsettling auroras. He could see him slicing off his eye, as he tried not screaming in utter agony, given how his body felt . He didn't know why he didn't die that day or why he didn't just kill him considering he had Theon at a great advantage, as he himself was virtually unharmed and unscratched, and Euron Crow-Eye wasn't even wearing his Valyrian armour that day, for some reason. Honestly, Theon didn't understand much of his uncle's decisions that day - with him not killing him when he had the chance, to leaving a bloody valyrian sword out in the blue, to not wearing his Valyrian armor… Maybe, he thought _What is dead may never die_ like a true Iron Islander, but Theon actually believed he was dead. Dead as a doorknob, for all he cared.

Artos Snow

"I have a grandson, you know, Artos." Jeor said, in that same dour tone he always had. "He was named after your father, or so I hear. I hope my sister is taking good care of the lad..." He sounded a bit distant, as though he was dreaming or something, but it was not the usual voice the Lord Commander had. It was far softer than usual. Artos didn't know whenever he should feel bad or not for the old man, as he filled the man's cup with some hot coffee. He had been officiated to the Lord Commander's personal steward after he swore his vows under the holy light of the Old Gods, whilst his friend of sorts, Samwell Tarly had joined him as well in this. He honestly thought that fat boy would've died without him there to save him from those... men in the courtyard - though Lord Hightower, the master-at-arms, had told him sharply that he was bullying them, for he was nobly raised and most of them were not, thus making him the one that was bullying him instead of the other way around.

"Have you considered visiting him, Lord-Commander?" Artos asked. Why not visit family? They were surely important, as it was, or at least to Artos; he had always found family to be the most important thing thus far in his life, disregarding his own ill-tempered mum. Whenever he had visited the Starks, he had cuddled and hugged with Arya, as she fought with her weapon Needle. He found that aspect of her to be invigorating and awe-striking, as she went after and attacked a many men, with great precision indeed, despite her small size. He told her how amazing he found her, which got him a soft hug from the little one, whom thanked him. Sansa said nothing to him, Edric say very little but was polite all the same, Torrhen liked him too considering he was a little boy of all things, and his brother Cregan was busy elsewhere, being moody or so his Lord father said with a chuckle. However, Artos liked all of his siblings, despite not knowing them very well - he sure would've liked too though, if he was given the opportunity, but Lady Stark took that dream and snatched it to a hundred tiny pieces because when she saw how well he got along with Arya, she had disbarred him from visiting Winterfell claiming he was a slight to her honour. He vaguely recalled crying that day.

"Yes, but boy, visiting family when your in the Night's Watch is fruitless, even though I'm certain that he'd like it if I decided to visited him though.." At that moment, Artos did indeed start feeling bad for the old man. He couldn't visit his own family because of... whatever reason he had.. Artos himself secretly doubted his lady mother cared whenever he lived or died out here, because he himself was a sin of her conscientiousness - and she never let him forget this fact, as he grew older, though she never hated him, per say she just treated him how she'd treat a Maester - coolly. After she at long last married Lord Dustin, she along with his own Lord father, had decided to send him to the wall to make sure he wasn't a threat to his half-sibling's of either Dustin or Stark origin.

"Why not visit him? If you say he'd like it, and if... if you want too... Why not do it, Lord Commander? You'd hurt nobody 'ere if you did it." Artos replied, looking down and slightly shuffling his feet. Artos wasn't the best judge of the these kind of things, but he did know something about family trust and loyalty. His Ryswell grandfather had taught him how to ride horses, and had been his best friend when he was younger. He was brave and bold - his father parental figure, the one to look up too when he was a young chap - he had been the one gave Artos his beloved current pony, Strider. Strider was beautiful and he raised him personally from birth to now with his own hands and a bottle of mother's milk. Indeed, he loved horses due to his grandfather, of whom gave him his current passion for horses.

"Because it would give people bad ideas, that they could go visit their own family if I did so."

"Well, that's a awful shame, Lord Mormont." He sighed.

"On to another topic, of the great ranging I have in store." Artos knew that he was taking two hundred seasoned men with him (three-quarters of them rangers) whilst the Half-hand was taking another hundred from the Shadow Tower and old blind Aemon Targaryen's own personal steward, Richard Blackwood, a level-headed young man by all accounts, would be taking on the haunted forest. He knew of Richard - they were well-acquainted indeed, and he found Richard to be gallant, well-educated and most importantly brave - and like him, felt stuck being some steward. They had actually bonded over this fact, and he found himself admiring Richard, in some ways - he was the prime example of what one of those Ser's should be, in his temperament at least, and the two of them shared a mutual love of horses - which Richard blamed on his grandmother, a Ryswell, which Artos found interesting. "Your to join me on this outing, my boy." He smiled one of those rare smiles. He felt his heart beat a step as he said this.

"Really, Lord? I'm glad and honoured that you'd let me join!" He smiled, extremely happily at having collected this information. Artos now wondered what he'd do now - would Lord Mormont made him go hunt on his horse? He was a wicked horsemen, and most men could not defeat him in a horse-race - and most importantly, he felt so free when he road on Strider. He felt as though he could do anything, even though he'd been having wolfy dreams as of late - he could see a red-haired girl with a bunch of lightly armed men besides her, running without much of a trace on the soft snows beneath their leathered feet, and he could see blood on his teeth, as he saw himself eat and tear into the corpse of a deer. He'd never use to have wolfy dreams before his friend came about - and he even had some dreams where he road fast and free on the road, with nothing keeping him back, as he did so. Maybe he was just as horse-crazed as his mother claimed he was, considering he nearly spent of all of his youth in the barnyard, helping caring for the new fowls his grandfather breed, but now his dreams changed. When he was younger and still with his own foul, he felt as he felt - scared, panicky, and what-not, before Strider got up and ran on his tiny feet away. Was this related to feeling like that as a child? Artos vaguely wondered.

"Yes, but your to collect the horses, feed them, and what-not before we leave. I trust you to do so, considering you smell like you've been in there sleepin' with them." It was likely because Artos spent all night worrying about Strider and his own dog that he had trapped in there. If there was one thing with Artos, is that he loved and cherished his pets when he had them. His last dog had died, tragically after a bloody hunter had shot her, which led Artos to feel highly depressed for many days afterwards - he had even buried the dog under their weirwood tree, and hoped that the old Gods would take her soul. He didn't want Winter to die, not like his puppy that didn't get to it's life to the fullest extent.

He brightly smiled at that. "I worry 'bout my animals, my Lord. I was raised by a horse-breeder, my Lord, I was trained into being exactly like that." That also explained why he smelt like a horse, actually. He spent a lot of time with his horse, when he wasn't fighting with the other boys - or saving boys like Samwell Tarly from certain doom, though he was doomed already, given that the Lord had refused to take him into the Night's Watch and sent him back home in disgrace, which he considered rather unfortunate. He didn't really know Samwell - so why defend him? His Lord father might kill him - like he said, but why did Artos care? He clearly wasn't suited for the Watch, and was far suited as a Maester or something other, not a Black Brother. That was what Artos believed, at least.

The Lord Commander nodded, before sending him to do that like in a King style, though King Rhaegar didn't seem to care very much about the Night's Watch. That silver-haired King was sitting in King's Landing, doing Gods know what, but whatever it was it had very little to do with the Night's Watch. He remembered the King visiting the North though - he had sliver-gold locks of hair, of which was placed in Aegon's Vs simple equest golden ring of a crown, and wore simple raven-coloured armour all the same. He also ignored Artos of course, whom was visiting at the time with his Lady mother - though they had placed him at the Bastard's table, with a load of mean bumpkins. They stared and judged him, but than again, even at the Rylls, did people judge his bastardy. He had been tempted to beat the living dickens out of them with his sword, but Prince Aegon had stopped him for some reason. Prince Aegon, the one that died recently, had talked to him of all people, which caused some whispers across the table. He found Prince Aegon to be everything a Prince should be, and even-more, given how he had no problems talking to anyone, that included small-folk, and wasn't even afraid to befriend himself... He found Prince Aegon to be an enigma of a nobly Prince, because not even his own charitable father had been like that - so charismatic, so charming, so everything - and it was unbelievably sad how such a Prince could die so young. He wondered how he died anyhow, but nobody seemed concerned how he died, as much as that he did, given that it mucked everything up and caused a political upheaval not seen since Aegon V's death.

Asha Greyjoy

Asha remembered her first meeting with her brother, Theon. He had seemed so very serious to Asha, but yet so very handsome, with deep brown-coloured hair and his eyes, now they were the kind a girl could fall in love with, even despite them having the same eye colour, something were em very appealing to someone like her, at least. Though, he paid her with as much attention as he would anyone else that wasn't their father, which was very minimalistic in nature and he acted as though he was on a mission- and he didn't even know whom she was when she had pretended to be that married washerwoman either, but he didn't so much as touch her though when she had been. He had been very courteous, well-mannered, but also a bit moody, but than again, he was half-a boy, as her nuncle Victorian said when he first saw him. He had also worn what sailors would usually wear when on the move, aka modest and well-worn clothing, and he had decided on only one sign of wealth on him, a golden-ring to symbolize his marriage to that Lannister woman.

"Father, we should help Theon." Asha stared at her father, as he sat with his maps. He hadn't even held one of Theon's children, his own grandchildren, yet because of foolish pride, the same kind of foolish pride that had lost Theon to begin with. Though, he was holding her own babe though. That boy was the last and only child she'd ever give life too, and she hoped Aleksander would know this. Though, Al seemed fine with it, considering he had other siblings - like Tris, whom once bothered her, before Aleksander had beaten the living shite of him and told him to stay away from her... Asha was fairly sure that the act of kinslaying had stayed his hand in this though, but he did promise to exile him for pestering her so with his clearly unrequited love for her when he became Lord of Lordsport in his own right. Tis was a shame he was with Theon right now, he was the best man to fuck on the entire island - he had quite the masterpiece of an underbelly, if one catches her drift.

"No. He's married to the Greenlands, with their vile, adherent religion that has tried countless times to convert us on the Iron Isles into peace-loving maggots of all things. Why, we do not bend, we sow, Asha. I have taught you this, and that's the truth of it." He was snarling, and sounded rather angry about this fact, as he stared at her with those furious deep brown eyes of his.

She sighed. "We earn nothing from alienating him. He's a good, oh fook, better man that I would've believed possible. He brought you back the _Silencer_ in prime condition with most of its crew intact, he has your bloody grandchildren... My nephews, for bloody sakes, and he even... You know, what father, it brings you ill-will to alienate your own family." Asha did indeed, wish to visit her nephews at Lannisport, and to see their bright faces, as Theon so described. He seemed happy, in a way that she could never truly believe given that he was a prisoner to the Lannisters for a neat ten years of his life, as he talked about his current family to her. He described his wife as being very strong willed and having the heart of a lion with how brave she seemed to him, and he loved his firstborn, Jon. Indeed, she was going to visit them, regardless of what this old cotter thought about it. She wasn't taught to be some silent wallflower or be a wee innocent maiden by her mum Alyanns or at least before she went mad with grief for her dead and missing sons. She sometimes visited her, though she wasn't sure her own father visited her, or if he cared really, give how their marriage had deteriorated before her very eyes. Theon had been tempted too, and probably would've, but his mission at hand had stopped him from doing so, though he claimed he would... someday at least, which was a sobering thought indeed.

"I don't need lecturing from you girl, on what I should and shouldn't do." He slammed his hand on the table with such force that it had made her boy cry, as he toddled towards her clearly scared. She picked him up, and put him on her hip.

"Well, now you've gone and scared little Artos." She was tempted to say far worse things to him for that act, but her wanting a normal relation with him stayed her hand on the matter. She put a hand on her hip, and gave him a tementatious look before storming out with her child. Asha didn't honestly want to hear anything from him, as she left him there to stew. No doubt he'd come running out to apologise to her, one way or another, but for right now, she didn't want to hear it. Neither from nuncle Aerion either, of whom also choice to ignore his virtues. For the longest time she had thought that Theon would be an arrogant little sod, when she saw him for the first time in a generation, but he actually blew her expectations though. He however, had turned out to be a well-adjusted young man, at least to her he did, though he did kind of break-down In a not so pleasant way when dealing with their father for the first time...

As she turned the corner, she felt corned by Aerion, one of her mad nuncle's, came rushing out to greet her in his usual unwashed way. Indeed, Asha found him a tad bit creepy at times, and not in a good way. She sighed, staring at him.

"Yes, Nuncle? I was off to see Lordsport, maybeh take care of it, and take of me ride and wandering the seas whilst leavin' me little one at home with 'is nursemaid. She flashed a smile at him, which of course the old man didn't recuperate. Aerion never smiled, not after being nearly drowned near the Stepping Stones after his craft had capsulated on one of the straits, and many of men lost their lives during that capsulation, though all of them were now feastin' with mermaids and other creatures under the blue waves with the eternal Sea God. Aerion had claimed to have seen mermaids that day forth sent by the Sea God from his underwater palace, and thus became one of his servants, now and forever, even though Asha now considered him the Unwashed one though, considering he barely bathed or cut his hair after becoming a priest of the Old God.

"Yes. I also heard you defending the one that married the Lannister like the Harrens did before him. Do not waste your time with him..." She found herself listening to one of his rants about Theon without a single smile on her face. She was actually feeling very tired of listening to this talk about her younger brother, and was about willing to punch someone in the face for it. No matter if they were holy-blessed or nought, it matter very little to her or her fists whom they hit at this minute.

"Get out of my way, nuncle." She replied instead, before walking past him, with her babe. She didn't want to hear him preach, not now at least. Maybe later, she'd be willing to join him, but for now she was off to be her own Queen abroad her vessel. She'd soar across the seas, on her ride, and forgot about her troubles - forgot about her brother, her father, everyone, and just enjoy the waves rolling under feet, the fresh smell of salt coming in from the waves following her trail, as she rode on towards her goal. Maybe, she'd even stop back and great 'er brother, of whom was currently on that paradise of an island, and her husband too. She wanted to be re-acquainted with him, if not for at least a minute, before her father recalled her back 'ere, or wanted to apologise to her. Either one would be fine.

She walked down Lord's port, holding her tod's hand as she set him down onto the floor. He was of course, curious about the people around him, as he stared around with those large muddy brown-colored eyes of his. He also wore the House Insigma of House Botley on his little plain-wead made attire that she herself had personally made for him simply to improve own sewing abilities. Indeed, she had wrecked most of her gear with numerous holes and such, and thus she wished to learn how to do so; and what better test-subject was there than a willing babe of all thing? So far, her outfit seemed fine, and sturdy, but she'd give it more time before she made that call for certain.

She sighed, continuing on her way on the port. She'd leave him with a nanny, as she left to Lys to meet her husband. He'd be fine, given that he was surrounded by one of the strongest forts in all of the Iron Isles. Lord's Port, unlike Pyke, was wealthy because of trade with the mainland - a flaw of the town, according to her father and the priests, of whom judged it harshly for it's peaceful, greenlands ways, even though the town was bustling with traders and full of fishermen, and all sorts of people, exotic or otherwise. Indeed, most people tended to live in Lordsport, if they wished to live peacefully, that was. Some people lived in raiding towns alongside the raiders, of whom at a moment's notice would take flight to attack the Green-lands - though, right now, several of them were in the North, because of cowardness on her father's behalf of whom was mainly scared of Tywin Lannister. He didn't say it, not obviously, but after her brother had been taken by the Lion Lord, he had stop raiding the Westerlands seemly altogether, though there was talk of another raid on the Fair-Isles though. But time would sing it's tune to see if her father would do it or not.


End file.
